


Purple Hyacinth: Book 1

by FanofmanyFandoms (Majorwhovian)



Category: Purple Hyacinth - Ephemerys & Sophism (Webcomic)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-15 13:34:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 34,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29314935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Majorwhovian/pseuds/FanofmanyFandoms
Summary: A fanmade novel adaptation of the webcomic. "Her ability to detect lies has made her an outstanding officer of the law - despite being haunted by her inability to save the ones she loved from a gruesome fate many years ago. Now, she uses her powerful gift to defend the defenseless at any cost - even if it means teaming up with a deadly assassin to fight evil in a world gone mad."
Relationships: Lauren Sinclair & Kieran White
Comments: 16
Kudos: 37





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Purple Hyacinth](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/757620) by Ephemerys & Sophism. 



> All credits to Ephemerys and Sophism. This is their world, their characters, and I am a humble fan in awe of their work. Also, my best friend refuses to read webcomics and I have this pathetic desperate desire to share the things I love with the people I love, so I'm giving her the story in book format in hopes that she will cave and read the comic. I own nothing, I am nothing, I see nothing, I hear nothing, but I like to do...somethings...

_What if you believed you knew better than anyone else._

_Because unlike you, they can’t see the lies._

_Yet ironically, for the past ten years, you have been the blindest of all…_

It’s both a blessing and a curse, knowing the truth without a shadow of a doubt, being able to hear the dishonesty just by recognizing the tone. 

On one side, the uncertainty of yes or no questions is completely removed. Police work suddenly becomes a lot easier. On the other side, there’s the responsibility to act on the truth learned. It’s a heavy burden, and for Lauren, mostly self-imposed. 

To say it's all black and white wouldn't be right either. You’d think it’d be easy. Either they’re lying, or they’re telling the truth. The problem lies in the fault of humanity itself, and the power of the individual mind. 

Because if someone can convince themselves a lie is the truth, then you really can’t hear the difference. It’s all a matter of perspective, really. 

“Stop!”

But then there are days like this one. It doesn’t matter that it’s freezing out, that snow is spinning sharply against the skin, and that the streets are cold, wet, and slicker than the monster they just surrounded in an empty street lot. 

What matters is that today she made a difference. Today, her abilities _meant something._

“Krist Schaeffer! You are under arrest for planting a bomb in Homston’s theater!”

The culprit stood in the center of the street, panicked, and looking exactly like a rat in a trap. But he wasn’t the only one who was afraid. The officers who surrounded on him on all sides were just as frightened, just as panicked. Hundreds of lives currently balanced precariously on a ledge, and any human with a shred of decency would be terrified at the responsibility of the next couple minutes. 

“Tell us how to defuse it and we might show mercy!” The captain’s voice wasn’t fooling anyone. This wasn’t just an arrest. No, this was a race. A race against time and the evil of mankind itself. 

Krist Schaeffer turned around, fear in his eyes and a curse on his lips. There’s something terrifying about an animal stuck in a trap with nowhere to go, a desperation that claws to the top when all other options are taken away. 

That’s what made his claim so believable. To most, anyway. 

“Hey Pigs!” The man turned fully to face the officers who closed in from every side. They froze as he reached into his jacket. “You think you can stop the Phantom Scythe?” He pulled out a grenade and lifted the explosive to his lips. His eyes narrowed and the fear disappeared, replaced by a crazed look of premature victory. 

“You’re _nothing_ compared to us! You value this city? You value your lives?” All he had to do was flinch to make his captive audience freeze as they realized the lengths this man might go to. 

“One more step…” The pin was in his teeth now. “ _ **And you will die**. _”

It happened in slow motion. The pin hit the ground and the grenade rolled towards the officers across the icy bricks. 

Their eyes widened in fright at the realization. The mental countdown began, and the air came alive with warnings and curses as everyone tried to turn back at once. _Almost_ everyone.

Her coworkers only saw a blur. A flash of red unruly hair. The smallest hint of a smirk. Confidence filled her the second her ears picked up the change in tone. “ _ **And you will die**._”

_Hmmph. Liar._

“Officer Sinclair! What are you doing? You won’t make it in time!”

All warning cries fell on deaf ears as Lauren sprinted through the falling snow, straight towards Krist. The explosion ripped through the air, but she charged forward unfazed, bursting through the sudden cloud of smoke towards the culprit who was unaware he was already being chased. 

He turned, just in time to see both fists come slamming down, crushing him against the wet street. A cold hand pressed his face into the bricks. 

“Red or blue?” The voice was feminine, confident, and hard - not sounding at all like the voice of someone who expected to get blown to bits just a second before. 

“What?” He spluttered into the street. The pressure against his head increased as he strained to get a look at the person pressed against his back. 

“Which wire?” Her voice rose, now straining to contain the pure rage that flexed against the professional bounds of the white mask she wore with pride. Confidence disappeared, replaced by pure desperation. He didn’t respond, and her restraint cracked. 

“Talk now! Tell me how to defuse the bomb or I swear to god I will…”

He had to give some sort of answer. The knee in his back pressed harder and the man started to fear for his life, now shaking shamelessly. 

But still. He had a mission to complete.

_“ **B-blue**.” _

Instantly, the grip relaxed. The hand on his head and the knee in his back disappeared. 

“Thanks,” she said simply. All tension and anger washed from her voice, dripping once again with unexpected confidence.

Lauren raised the radio to her lips. 

_They’d better listen this time…_

“Sinclair here. I have the suspect in hand...” She glanced at the man on the ground. He was still astoundingly relaxed, despite his situation. What kind of evil could be thrilled at the prospect of so much death? She could practically feel his excitement coming off of him in waves. 

Her radio crackled. “What did he say?”

She smiled. “Cut the _red_ wire.”

His reverie faded in the blink of an eye. _But how could she..._

“Are you sure? Dozens of lives are on the line…”

There wasn't the slightest hesitance in her response. “Yes.” She wasn’t sure about too many things in this world, but this, _this_ she could say with _absolute_ certainty. 

Everyone was holding their breath. Everyone except for herself and the man on the ground.

Because _she knew_ , and _he knew_ that she was right. 

“Bomb disposal unit reporting.” The radio crackled again. “The threat has been successfully neutralized.”

Sometimes, it _was_ completely black and white.

The aftermath of the incident played out quickly. Krist Schaeffer was cuffed and taken away. All the hostages were released, none the worse for wear. Though a couple of them had wet their pants. 

The snow still fell. The clocks still ticked. The world went on. 

“Officer Sinclair!”

Lauren turned to see Officer Harvey running up to her. He quickly pulled off his mask, and she could see the remnants of his earlier panic etched clearly across his face.

He was a kind young man with light brown hair and a charming amount of freckles over his face and arms. A cute kid, really. _Rookie._

“God, you really scared us back there! When you started running towards it, I…” He was clearly still panicked, running high on the adrenalin rush and thrill that the whole precinct survived on day by day. 

“It’s okay!” Lauren said brightly. She smiled at him, instantly calming some of the concern on his face. “The striker head was modified. The lever was a lot shorter than a normal grenade.” Here she was again, finding an explanation for how she knew something that she shouldn’t actually know. It was becoming an art form for her, really. 

How ironic.

If someone else could hear lies too, they’d think she was quite the hypocrite. 

“Frags have longer heads for safety purposes. Most smoke grenades have a shorter one because it’s less lethal.”

The explanation was quick and casual, believable by all. All Harvey could do was shake his head in admiration. But she wasn’t going to give him the chance to ask a second question.

Her luck didn’t tend to hold out. 

“Well, I’ll be going now, Officer Harvey.” She took a step back. “Got some paperwork to do back at the station!” His mouth opened, but she was already running back up the street. 

_No more questions._

“See you tomorrow!” she called over her shoulder. Harvey watched her go and couldn’t help the mix of adoration and itching suspicion that filled his chest. What was that called? A gut feeling?

“Sinclair,” he muttered to himself, “Every time…” He cocked his head as he watched her retreating form. “Wait… Isn’t the department the other way?”

Lauren charged through the snowy streets as quick as she could as that familiar wave of nausea filled her middle. The wind pushed against her chest, and she turned into the nearest alley. 

It was still a mystery to her - why she could hear the lies. The irony of her life was an ongoing conundrum. Once a girl fascinated with the unknown, then a detective tasked with unmasking it, now once again just a patrol officer stuck in a position without an end in sight. 

She took the white mask off and looked down at the bricks. Wind and snow cut freely against her eyes and nose now. 

Growing up, she was taught not to lie. That lies were _evil._ _Wrong._

What had she become since then? Someone who could tell the lies just as easy as she could hear them. _Ironic._

She looked down at her hands, so steady a minute ago, even with hundreds of lives on the line as she waited for a response from the man she crushed against the street. Now they shook uncontrollably. 

The bitter fact of the matter was, the _truth was worse._

She slammed her fist against the nearest wall, needing to feel the pain. A rock scraped against her throat as tears filled her eyes. She fell to her knees and quickly wiped the offending moisture away.

“I stopped it. I stopped it this time…” 

There was no one to hear but the wind. The rock in her throat dropped down to her chest.

“And yet…”

 _Memories._ Sweet, torturous, cruel, painful memories flashed before her eyes.

_There are times I wished I never knew…_

A bright summer day, opposite of this one. A day full of happy dreams and prospects of the future. A laugh on her lips and a friend by her side as they _ran,_ like the children they were, and just enjoyed the day, beautiful Allendale Station just down the street.

Then the explosion.

Then it was gone. 

Then there was nothing but twisted metal, screams that burned their way into her memories, and the perpetual feeling of loss and pain. _Bodies. Blood._

_“The Revolution has begun.”_

And the worst part about it?

_She knew it was coming._

A sigh escaped her lips and she straightened up. She had to keep going. Otherwise, what did it all mean? How could she justify the years of work and misery if she just gave up when it got tough? 

_Keep going._

She gripped her mask and turned as a patter of footsteps approached her cold sanctuary in the alley. 

“Lauren?”

A familiar voice. A kind voice. “You did good today.”

 _Good ol’ Will._ His blond hair flopped over the white of his mask. He was smiling at her.

Lauren managed a smile back as she pulled the white mask back over her eyes. “Thank you,” she said simply. 

The truth was still out there. Waiting. Simmering. _Begging_ to be found by the person best qualified to find it.

She never thought she was good enough on her own.

But…

She never thought she’d have to team up with _him_ to find it.


	2. Lovely Lady

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trying to do a chapter every other day until I catch up to the webcomic, then a chapter a week as every new chapter comes out. Chapters subject to change as the story progresses because I literally have no idea where it is going or how it's going to end. So this should be fun...

The worst kind of tragedies strike when you least expect them.

The most vivid of nightmares visit when you were blessed with sweet dreams just the night before.

Such was the evening to the unsuspecting victim getting ready for bed. It was the sudden gust of wind through the open window that made her turn around. She didn’t turn fast enough.

_Poor Rose Grayson._

A hand flashed out of the darkness, blocking the screams that tried to escape her throat. The blade flashed. The body fell. Then there was silence.

Less than five minutes later, just across the street, Robert De La Rocca snapped his head up when he heard the creak on the floorboards. To say he was _completely_ unprepared wouldn’t be fair.

The figure came out of the shadows. Blue eyes flashed daggers through the soon-to-be victim. 

Robert’s final movement was a finger on a trigger. The last sound he heard was the blast of a gunshot before the blade came out against his throat.

As the blood ran out and stained the carpet, the moonlight illuminated the cloaked figure against the window. Gloved hands were drenched in the evidence, holding the shining blade temporarily marked with the life force of the man on the ground.

Time was short, but the assassin briefly looked down at the crimson marked sword. He would clean it up later.

“Greetings from _the leader._ ”

He wasn’t sure if Robert heard the statement or not. It didn’t matter.

Voices echoed from the street below. It was time to go.

He disappeared just as quick as he came, leaving nothing behind but a twitching corpse and the wilting petals of his signature, the stems and violet blossoms now stained with red.

 _A purple hyacinth._

_Seven hours earlier…_

Why did she continue to subject herself to this? 

Lauren’s eyes darted around the small coffee shop as her blind date prattled on and on from across the table. 

Oh, yes, that’s right. _Moving on._

_Sorry, Uncle. But there are better ways to distract myself._

The setting light cast an orange glow over the streets outside. A couple walked past. A paperboy wearing a light brown cap clamoured and waved to anyone who would give him the time of day. 

For a moment, Lauren forgot. That boy was going to turn around. The eyes were going to light up in recognition and she was going to run away from this uncomfortable situation and join him outside in the setting light.

_“Ren, let me tell you about the flowers…”_

“Lauren? Are you listening?”

“Hm?” Lauren redirected her eyes away from the shop windows and focused back on the sharp-dressed blond sitting across from her. 

What did he ask? _"Are you listening?"_

_In truth? Not at all…_

The man wasn’t too offended that his date seemed to zone out. He smiled and leaned forward on his elbows. It wasn’t his appearance that bothered her. He was your traditional, average-looking man who cleaned up nice. Black tie. Blue coat. Slicked hair with a single blond curl flopping over the center of his forehead. 

Some girls might find that cute.

“Your eyes look so _pensive_ today.” He raised his hand dramatically as if about to spout the greatest poetry reciting of all time. “But I must admit, I’ve never seen such pretty golden eyes before.”

Lauren had to stop herself from rolling her eyes. _Every. Freakin. Time._ It was as if no man in all of Ardhalis could come up with a better compliment. 

_My eyes aren’t pensive. I’m just bored._

Her date leaned back in his chair and winked. “I presume your beauty and charm have left a trail of heartbroken men."

_Ha._

Heartbroken men? Hilarious. Beauty? Yes. Charm? He obviously hadn’t spent enough time with her yet. Hopefully he wouldn’t get to, either.

Lauren lowered her head in well-feigned shyness. “Haha, thank you, Mr. Evans, but I highly doubt it. But if I ever did, I must have been too focused on my work to notice.” She glanced down at her coffee mug. It was already empty.

_Damn. The one reason I had to stay here._

“Oh yes, **_I understand. It’s the same for me._** My parents own the Evan’s Company, and I’m supposed to take up the business after them. **_So I’ve been working hard to not disappoint them._** ” The lies slipped off his tongue easily. So smooth. So _well-rehearsed._

Lauren leaned back in her chair. This part of her little gift was fairly entertaining. There was no shortage of pompous rich boys eager and ready to embellish their already pathetic existence with well-padded exposition of their talents, possessions, or experiences. 

Exposing them was almost like a fun little game.

“But all they ever care about is how I’m twenty-eight **_and still not married!_** ”

Lauren picked her head up. 

Oblivious, Mr. Evans continued. “ ** _I mean, I’m single, so what? It’s okay to…_ **”

 _The bastard is cheating on his wife._ Lauren redirected her eyes back to the window before her expression could give her away. Her coffee was completely consumed. All she wanted was to get out of there.

She needed an excuse.

Thankfully, her excuse just so happened to be walking past the window at that moment in the form of blue-haired Kym Ladell. Lauren’s eyes widened.

 _Kym. Your timing is impeccable._ Now how to get her attention?

Thankfully, Kym turned her head and caught Lauren’s eye. Instantly, her face lit up and she wildly waved at Lauren through the window, oblivious to the passerbyers on the sidewalk who looked strangely at the jumping young woman. 

“ ** _You know, I really respect the risks policemen take everyday to protect this city._ ** Once, I was shopping and some vagrant barged in and held the cashier at gunpoint! **_So of course, I immediately threw myself between the poor woman and the criminal. It was just like instinct, you know?”_ **

The lies were getting more ridiculous. Lauren shifted her eyes off of Kym and stared at Mr. Evans.

_How could he smile like that while lying through his teeth?_

Kym was busily sizing up the situation from outside. She critically looked Mr. Evans up and down. He didn’t look too impressive from his backside. Maybe the frontside was better? What did Lauren see in him?

Lauren turned her gaze back to Kym and ever so slightly nodded across the table towards her poor-excuse-for-a-date who was still rambling and lying his way into an unsuspecting hole. Her expression said it all.

_Save me. Please._

Without missing a beat, Kym snapped to attention and saluted in confirmation.

_Your wish is my command!_

Mr. Evans’ exposition was interrupted by a loud bang as Kym unexpectedly threw herself against the window of the coffee shop. 

He whirled around and stared wide-eyed at the young woman who was currently dragging her face against the glass, leaving a trail of smudgy marks and fingerprints.

“What the…” he spluttered.

“Oh no, dear lord! It is my blind friend!” Lauren exclaimed loudly.

 _Oh my gosh, Kym._ Lauren stood up with a gasp. _This_ was a bit overboard, but what else did she expect from her best friend? 

Kym grinned crazily as the whole cafe turned to the strange display. Bold, ebullient, and absolutely immune to all forms of embarrassment, Kym opened her mouth and exhaled against the window. Lauren grimaced.

 _Please don’t lick the glass. Please don’t lick the glass._ Lauren slammed her hands down on the table. “Please excuse me, Mr. Evans. I must go help her. It was nice meeting you!” Lauren started towards the door, sufficiently embarrassed but more relieved than anything. 

She wasn’t expecting Mr. Evans to jump up. He grabbed her hand and angrily turned her towards him.

“You can’t just run off like that!” he exclaimed. “Don’t make me waste my time!”

Lauren narrowed her eyes. _Oh, you son of a…_ She quickly detached his hand from her wrist. “You’re right. You really shouldn’t waste time on me,” she said sweetly, doing her best to keep her voice calm and level. She squeezed his wrist and jerked him forward for good measure. He evidently wasn’t expecting the sudden show of strength and stumbled clumsily.

“Maybe use it to help your company out for real this time,” Lauren continued, “Or spend some more of that _time_ with your _wife?”_

Mr. Evans looked utterly gobsmacked and could only sputter in response. Lauren hid a smile. Now _that_ was an expression she wished she could frame. 

“That poor woman,” she said sincerely, “Married to a cheating bastard like you.” She finally released his wrist and he quickly turned away from the prying eyes of the entire shop who seemed to be enjoying the show.

Everyone liked a little bit of drama.

“But you know, even though you’re such a human disgrace,” Lauren said as she turned towards the door, “I’ve still dedicated my life to protecting ungrateful cowards like you. It’s just _instinct,_ you know?”

Mr. Evans took a retreating step back into his chair as his eyes darted about the shop. People were watching and Lauren made sure to raise her voice _ever so slightly_ as she made her points. 

_Now this was fun._

She gracefully pulled some of her red hair out of her face and combed it over one ear, looking in that moment like the beautiful goddess she was. The simple white blouse, cinched brown skirt, and black boots she wore didn’t minimize that one bit. After all, clothes have nothing to do with the fact. 

Having got some form of closure over the whole encounter, Lauren lifted her head and walked proudly out the door to her performing friend outside.

From the far right corner of the shop, a dark haired stranger lifted his mug as a slow smile spread over his face. To say he was interested would be an understatement. 

For whatever reason, Kym was still insistently banging her face against the glass as Lauren walked outside.

“Kym!” Lauren hollered.

The cry did absolutely nothing to cease the dramatic display. Kym caught Lauren’s eye then smashed her face forward repeatedly.

_Good grief. It wouldn’t look good if she had to arrest the sergeant of the precinct for disrupting the peace._

Lauren hooked her arm around Kym’s elbow and gave a strong tug. “Stop. You can’t afford to lose your brain cells yet.” _What few remain._

Kym laughed and willingly followed Lauren down the street. She had a pronounced red circle on her forehead from the encounter. Lauren visibly relaxed and threw an arm around Kym’s shoulders. 

“Thanks a lot, Kym. I was dying in there.”

Kym just grinned and briefly brushed her forehead. “I swear to god, next time you’re the one banging your head on the window.”

Lauren let out a puff of air. “No, I’d be smashing the next guy’s head out the window.”

Especially if they were anything like Mr. Evans. His poor wife. 

“Still though,” Kym remarked, “I’m fascinated by how unlucky you are with these weirdos you’re trying to date.” She raised an eyebrow and the skin around her eyes crinkled as she smirked at Lauren. “Please don’t say this one told you your eyes are pensive too?”

“Don’t even get me started,” Lauren said as she rolled her eyes. “Uncle says that dating is part of moving on, but…” Her eyes darted to the side. That little paperboy was still there. “But…”

Kym followed Lauren’s line of sight and her smile instantly faded away. Lauren was back _there_ again, lost in a sea of regret and memories that viciously haunted them both. That line of thinking was dangerous, and Kym knew. Even now she closed her hands around the golden case of the broken pocket watch that rested forever in every jacket she owned. _Hypocrite._

“Hey.” Kym reached out. One syllable was all it took. Lauren’s eyes shifted back over to Kym and her friend offered her a small smile. 

_Don’t go back there. Come back up for air, Lauren._

“Only five cents!” the boy called, waving a paper in the air. “Ten years! Retrospective on the Allendale Train Station Tragedy!” 

The moment smashed into bits and Lauren looked away again. “I’m fine, Kym.”

Lauren briefly wondered. If Kym could hear lies too, what would that statement sound like? Half the time she didn’t know if the statement was true or if she was just really good at pretending. The latter was more likely. 

She turned to the boy, doing her best not to look the young thing in the eyes. “Here, five cents.”

The boy took it gratefully and handed her a paper. “Thank you, ma’am.”

Lauren was already looking over the headline. 

“ _Ten years after Allendale Station tragedy. Memorial ceremony will be held in the names of the victims…”_

“No, thank you.”

Kym glanced at the paper then back at the boy. This wasn’t good. This was the _opposite_ direction Lauren needed to go. Kym took a deep breath and swallowed down the pain in her own chest. 

“Come on, Lauren,” Kym said jubilantly as she threw her arm around Lauren’s neck and abruptly yanked her forward. “Tell me more about your date!”

It worked. Lauren tucked the paper under her arm as Kym stepped off the curb, just narrowly missing a passing car. 

“Okay, you’re not going to believe this. So first he…”

The rest of the afternoon faded into laughter and chatter. The conversations held little meaning or substance. It was as if they were both fully aware of the true purpose. 

_A distraction._

But then Kym left and Lauren was back at her Uncle’s house, mind and heart right back on the subject that shouted off the pages of the newspaper under her arm. So lost was she in her thoughts that she almost walked straight into the maid who was rounding the corner towards the stairwell.

“Oh!” the maid gasped, “Good evening, Lady Lauren!” She quickly righted herself and bowed her head respectfully. “You’re home late. Work again?”

Lauren managed a casual smile and nodded politely. “Actually, today is my day off!” she said as she resumed her trek towards the staircase. 

“Anything I can do for you?” the maid offered.

“No, thank you, Lucy.” Lauren quickly walked up the steps towards her bedroom. “I think I’ll go catch up on some paperwork. You should sleep soon!”

“Yes, I will. Your uncle is already asleep.”

Lauren figured as much. She saw his car parked out front. Unlike her, Uncle Tristain kept to a strict schedule of life and work balance. He encouraged her to do the same, but the whole household knew how little Lauren actually followed that advice.

She was young. She could take the late nights and skipped meals without large consequence. For now…

“Have a good night nonetheless, Lady Lauren.” 

All Lauren could do was nod and she quickly ran up the final steps. The halls were clean, quiet and abandoned as she stepped around the floorboards that she knew creaked. The kindness of Lucy and the rest of the household made Lauren’s life...bearable.

It was easier to go on, day by day, when you knew someone was waiting for you at home, whether that was a maid, her uncle, the gardner, the chef, or the butler. Uncle Tristain treated her like his own daughter.

He made the fact that they were... _gone_ seem less like the nightmare it was. 

But he couldn’t remove that memory and the burdens that came with it. 

Lauren abruptly changed course from her bedroom to her study. The room was immaculate, just like the rest of the house. The large oak desk was mostly bare save a lamp, inkwell, a phone, and two stacks of paper. Lauren dropped the newspaper on the desk and quickly turned on the lamp.

The room was bathed in a soft glow of light as Lauren tied back her hair and settled down in her chair, fully prepared for a night of study. 

The newspaper spread out before her with pictures that were already vividly painted in her brain, and had been for years. She crossed her ankles and stared at it, her nightmare, alive and still happening on repeat in the back of her head for days on end. 

_Ten years...How can I…_ She glanced down at her skirt and white blouse. What was she doing?

_Moving on? Who am I trying to fool?_

She abruptly grabbed the corner of the newspaper and tossed it into the box in the corner of the office. The box that held a stack of similar papers, all holding the exact same information. Folders filled with details of cases long since cold. Binders full of information, meaning nothing to anyone except Lauren herself.

The facts of the matter. The cold known truth. 

The ring of the telephone snapped her out of her thoughts. A call at this hour could only mean one thing. She picked up the receiver. 

“Hello? Officer Sinclair here.”

A pause.

“An emergency? What happened?”

She narrowed her eyes. 

“45 Whiteriver street? Yes. I’ll be there.”

She hung up the phone and turned off the light. So much for a night of study. 

Once she was back in her room, Lauren quickly shed the skirt and white blouse. It took just a few minutes to put on her uniform, strap on her gun, her mask, and throw her jacket over her shoulder. The golden fabric of the distinguished shield crinkled slightly as she threaded her arms through the sleeves.

Her hair was already up. The entire process took less than two minutes. She left the room and made sure to close her study door on her way down the hall. The wind from the door ruffled back the curtains that covered the pin board on the far left wall of the study. 

The papers and spread of red string and pins across the board were a silent witness of the past ten years, and Lauren’s unending obsession with it. Newspaper articles, a brown hat, maps, memos, papers ripped from notepads, and a single photograph hanging from a clipboard in the center.

A photograph of a boy standing in a garden with flowers framing him on every side. Brown cap. Grey innocent eyes. Hair so blond it was almost white, and a smile that stretched from ear to ear. 

He filled her dreams and haunted her waking hours.

_Ten years later and I....still couldn’t do anything for you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to correct any mistakes, misconceptions, or details I've missed.


	3. Somber Silhouette

Lauren dashed down the empty streets lit only by the full moon and the odd gas lantern. Thankfully, she didn’t have far to go. A murder? Just a few blocks away from her house?

_“Officer, we need your presence at an active crime scene.”_

_“An emergency? What happened?”_

_“A Mrs. Grayson was killed in her home at 45 Whiteriver. Suspect still at large. Can you come in?”_

She could never say no. Ever.

_“45 Whiteriver street? Yes. I’ll be there.”_

She didn't know the details yet, and she wouldn’t until she got there, but as Lauren sprinted down the empty stone corridors there was only one thought on her mind.

_Assassins. For a decade, they terrorized Ardhalis City._

She rounded a corner as the warm night air swept across the open bay and washed over the town. The salty smell permeated the air, and Lauren took in a deep breath of it. If the murder tonight _was_ the work of an assassin it could only be added to the long list of similar incidents, most unsolved, many forgotten.

It was too organized to be random. 

Too calculated to be the work of a single man. Unless…

The facts were painted all over her study at home.

_No one had ever seen their leader. Terrorists. Thieves. Killers. All united._

She crossed the street and looked up at the signpost. _Whiteriver Street._ Was tonight’s unfortunate soul a victim of this group? The organization that haunted this city and terrorized the citizens?

_The Phantom Scythe._

Unbeknownst to Lauren, the famed terror claimed not one, but two lives that night. 

A small collection of vehicles were clustered together just outside the specified address. Lauren spotted two familiar figures standing near the curb, and she quickly lifted her white mask.

“Kym! Will! You were called in as back-up too?”

The two other officers were also part of the patrol unit at the 11th precinct of the Ardhalis Police Department. The three had gone to the academy together and were lucky/unlucky enough to be paired together post graduation. 

_Sergeant Kym Ladell._ Marksman, witty, and life of the party.

Appearance: Short, dark blue hair. Light brown eyes. Shortest of the three. 

Occupation: Mood maker and master of chaotic neutral. 

Criminal record: The innumerable slaughter of many watermelons and most recently the assault of a coffee shop window. Reaper of William Hawkes’ sanity.

 _Lieutenant William Hawkes._ Organized, responsible, eternally tender-hearted. Is probably a dog person.

Appearance: Tall, blond, and cute. The kind of boy you introduce to your mother. Blue-eyed, pointed chin, hair swept to the left and cut short at the back. 

Occupation: Paperwork dispenser and full-time overseer of all Ladell operations. 

Criminal record: None. He is a good boi. 

Potential criminal record: Killing Kym Ladell. 

They both looked happy to see Lauren. William raised his mask and smiled easily. “Hey, Lauren. Yeah, we must all live close to the crime scene.”

Kym lifted her mask and winked. “I can’t believe they called us in on our day off…” here she dramatically dropped her mask back down and rolled her eyes towards William. “...and for a _simple homicide!_ Just because it _happens_ to be in our precinct!”

William stared at her blankly. “No one knows the area better than we do.” Kym scowled. _Reasonable. Makes sense. Statement of the obvious._ “If the culprit is still somewhere around here, we have the best chance of finding him…” he finished.

“I know,” Kym huffed. “Shut up, Lieutenant.”

William ignored her.

“I was only told there was a murder,” Lauren said as the three made their way to the front gate, “And that the culprit escaped.”

“The guys on night duty are all busy with an armed robbery on the other side of town,” William explained. “Detective March is supposed to join us with more backup soon.” 

“Help! Please!” The front gate burst open and a frantic young woman burst through it. Her eyes were wide with fright and she stumbled against the street pillar.

“I d-don’t know what happened!” the woman cried as she grabbed her head in her hands, “I...the lady…”

William was there in an instant. He knelt down by the woman and gently took her hand. “Miss! Please try to stay calm, you’re safe now. You did the right thing, calling us right away.”

Lauren watched his movements and crossed her arms. William did the comforting while his two female compatriots looked on, perfectly happy to let the precinct angel do his job. 

The woman merely nodded and leaned against Will. He waited until she caught her breath before probing further. “Can you tell us what happened? Where is Mrs. Grayson?”

The girl’s eyes filled with tears. “I-I was having trouble sleeping...but then I heard sounds coming from Lady Grayson’s room! I wanted to make sure everything was alright. But then I saw the b-blood.” She sucked in a breath and covered her mouth with her hand. “S-so much blood...and a limp hand sticking out of the doorframe and I…” A sob escaped her throat and she wiped her eyes. “I ran away,” she admitted. “I was s-so scared.”

As the woman sobbed against William, Lauren heard a murmur of voices and looked over her shoulder. Three more officers were approaching. 

“It seems our backup has arrived,” Lauren commented. Head of the group was Detective Oliver March. Lauren knew him. She missed working with him. March’s eyes rested briefly on Lauren before turning his attention completely on the case.

“Lieutenant Hawkes! What is going on here?” March barked.

William looked up over the head of the still shaking woman. “Detective March! Good to see you. We were called in about the murder of Lady Grayson. We’re just about to search the house…”

A gunshot ripped through the night air and everyone looked up simultaneously. Kym was the first to act.

“Across the street!” she said as she stepped off the curb. William cursed under his breath and quickly opened the front gate and urged the trembling woman to her feet. 

“Miss, get inside and stay away from any windows!” he ordered. Kym and Lauren were already crossing the street and William sprinted to get ahead of them. “Detective March, please protect the witness! Lauren, Kym - with me!”

He didn’t need to add that last part. Kym and Lauren were already hot on his heels as two of the other officers followed them to the house where the blast originated. Guns were drawn and at the ready.

Lauren heard a bang overhead and looked up just in time to see a dark figure crawling onto the rooftop against the moonlight. 

“Over there!” she hollered to the others, “Someone escaped through the windows!” Lauren changed course and turned down the opposite street, fully zoned in on the place where the fugitive disappeared overhead. Two of the officers followed her, and she barely heard William’s protests and curses behind her. 

There wasn’t time to stop and make a plan. Either she moved now or the murderer would get away. William knew that. He could deal. Lauren left the two officers in the dust as she picked up speed and cut through an alley on her left. She needed to get onto the roof.

Gun still in hand, Lauren jumped from a crate to the nearest ledge then swung herself up the nearby balconies of the attached apartment building. She was strong, fast, and more athletic than the other officers, and she knew she had a good chance of catching up as long as she didn’t lose sight of her prey. 

As her knees scraped against the gutters at the top of the building, Lauren lifted herself over the edge and managed to catch sight of the figure. Their cloak billowed in the wind, fading into the shadows as the full moon disappeared behind some cloud cover. Lauren narrowed her eyes behind her mask.

_Shit. He is actually fast._

This would be a challenge, but when had that ever stopped her? 

She caught a glimpse of tall dark boots and a silhouette of long hair as the figure jumped from rooftop to rooftop. Lauren kept pace with him, matching every lunge and jump of his with one of her own. Slowly, she was gaining on him. 

He was just a few feet ahead of her now. The gap between this building and the next was longer than the others. 

_Was he going to jump?_

Lauren gritted her teeth. 

_He jumped._

So she followed. When her feet hit the rooftop, and by some miracle didn’t immediately contort her ankle as she tried to maintain her balance and footing, she frantically glanced back up, afraid she’d lost her target.

To her surprise, he was just standing at the edge, looking down over the street. The air ripped sharply in and out of her lungs as Lauren tried to catch her breath. The next building on the street towered two stories overhead. There was no railing, no porch, no windows for the target to climb up and continue down the street.

_Gotchya_ _._

He partially turned towards her, mouth and chin hidden behind a thick white scarf tucked into his coat. 

_Nowhere left to run._

She was so close that she could see the bloodstains that ran up his arms and over the dark set of gloves. Blood spatter was all over the front of his trousers and trenchcoat. A long black sheath and sword handle peaked out of either side of the coat. His skin was clear and wrinkle free. Long dark hair hid his eyes in their shadows.

Then he lifted his chin and she could see his lips turned up into a smirk. Lauren froze as the man spread his arms and... _jumped?_

_Jumped? That was a two story drop!_

Lauren lunged forward, hand outstretched just seconds too late. She looked down at the street below where the man had landed and rolled.

_Two could play that game. If you think I’ll let you slip through my fingers…_

This man clearly underestimated her level of stubbornness and persistence. If he jumped, she jumped.

_Oomph._

She hit the ground harder than she was expecting and quickly copied the fugitive’s tuck and roll until she was back on her feet. For the second time that night she had avoided a sprained ankle. Whatever his bones were made of, she had to be made of the exact same stuff.

_Annoying._

She snapped her head to the left and caught a glimpse of movement in the empty marketplace nearby.

_She hadn’t lost him._

The adrenaline was holding strong, and Lauren quickly reclaimed her previous pace. The other two officers were completely forgotten as she dodged empty booths and tables.

_The race was still on._

Back at the crime scene, William quickly abandoned any efforts to stop Lauren. At least two other officers were with her, but he guessed they wouldn’t be able to keep up with her for long. The priority had to be the victims at this point. 

“Kym, follow me. They might still be alive in there,” William ordered as he turned towards the building across the street. Detective March had the first crime scene handled. They would be spread thin tonight until more backup arrived.

The backdoor of the building was locked and William promptly kicked it open while Kym stood by with her gun at the ready. The wood splintered and William dashed inside.

“Let’s go! The gunshot came from upstairs! Come on!” He found the nearest staircase and ran up, jumping two and three steps at a time. Kym was right behind him. The apartment was large and William ducked his head into several rooms before finding the right one. 

He burst through the door of a study and spotted a lone figure sprawled out on the floor.

“Sir! Are you alright…” William trailed off and cursed again. The man’s eyes were wide open in an endless stare at the ceiling. Blood was everywhere. He was most definitely dead. Kym came up behind him and quickly took in the whole scene. “He’s dead,” William said, though it was obvious.

Kym quickly clamped him on the shoulder. “Oh no!” she declared sarcastically. William cringed and bit his lip. _Here it comes…_

“ _Surely_ he’s just sleeping! Can’t you see he’s trying to charm you with how _drop-dead_ gorgeous he is?” Kym joked with a dramatic flourish of her hand. 

It wasn’t the first time she’d made an ill-timed pun at a gruesome crime scene. He supposed he should be used to it at this point. On the bright side, at least the captain wasn’t present this time around.

“Shut up, Kym. It’s not a joke.” The fact he even had to point that out was ridiculous. He took a step forward to get a better look. His eyes widened behind the mask as his heart dropped into his stomach. “This murder looks like…” he trailed off.

_No...it couldn’t be._

“Lieutenant?” Kym ventured. The mirth was gone from her voice. William walked up to the body, hoping he was mistaken. 

He was not.

There, floating in a puddle of blood, was a wilting purple flower _._ William’s blood ran cold.

“It was him,” he managed to get out. “ _He_ was here.”

 _Him._ The Demon of Greychapel. The scourge of Ardhalis.

And Lauren was chasing him. 

Kym sucked in a sharp breath behind him as their minds turned towards one gruesome possibility: their friend could be at the mercy of the city’s most deadly assassin at that very moment. 

Kym turned from the room and ran down the steps and back outside without another word.

“Kym!” William shouted after her. Kym didn’t slow down.

“Lauren! I have to stop her!” Kym shouted. “She’ll get killed!”

Meanwhile, Lauren was completely unaware of the details of her current situation. The mission was simple: catch the bad guy. That was it. 

For a minute, she thought she’d lost him as he disappeared behind a corner. Much to her relief, this new alley was partially overshadowed by a wooden roof and ended at a large brick wall. There was nowhere for him to go. He was trapped. 

_Ha! Dead-end! I’ve got you now._

His back was turned as Lauren approached him boldly, gun still drawn. 

Suddenly, he bolted and jumped up against the wall, springing himself at least six feet up into the air as his hand grasped one of the wooden beams overhead. 

He was quick, but Lauren was quicker. There was an empty crate nearby and she took a running leap and sprung herself upwards after him. His hand reached up to pull himself onto the wooden roof, but Lauren’s foot came out and smashed down on his shoulder before he could climb any farther. 

There was a resounding smack and a grunt as he landed backwards onto the stone of the alley. Even though he was on the ground, the man reacted. Lauren felt a hand close around her ankle as the suspect yanked her down. Her hands flung up, trying to find a hold on the drainage line overhead. There was nothing.

Pain seared down her arm as her skin caught against an exposed screw, shredding the skin back as it ripped through the sleeve of her jacket. Helpless, Lauren fell backwards as the gun slipped from her fingers. 

_I’m not beat yet._

Ignoring the pain in her arm as best she could, Lauren bent her knee and pushed off from the wall, successfully making contact with the perp’s shoulder as she landed. She used her wounded hand to try and keep his chest down. It was no use.

The man pushed himself up and out of her reach, dodging her next kick with ease. He rolled to his feet and turned just as Lauren’s fist flew forward, aimed directly at his face. 

His reflexes were quicker. He grabbed her bloodied forearm and jerked her in front of him and off her balance. Lauren felt panicked for a split second as his other fist made contact with her back, slamming her into the wall of the alley. 

There wasn’t any time to catch her breath. Blood was dripping down from her elbow to her fingertips. Her gun was out of reach in the alley and she was pinned to a wall. 

_He’ll kill me at this rate._

She gritted her teeth.

_No. This isn’t how I go out._

She planted her good hand against the wall and spun around with a yell...just in time to meet a foot flying into her face. Her jaw popped as the white mask flew off and clattered onto the stone brick of the alley.

If she thought about it later, that was the second where it all changed. For weeks after that fateful night, in the few times that she actually crawled under her covers at home to get some of that long-lost sleep, she wondered...

_That night… you could have killed me._

For the first time, he looked her full in the face. Sharp blue eyes pierced through the amber centers of what had been called the most _pensive_ eyes in all of Ardhalis.

And Lauren stared back. She had time to stare back.

_Because you hesitated._

He leaned forward with his sword drawn. It pressed up against her throat, but his eyes never tore themselves away from hers. The blade broke the white skin, but never went deeper than that. 

_And I didn’t know why. If only I did…_

And just like the hands on Kym’s broken pocket watch... _time stood still._ Maybe it was the life and death nature of the situation. Maybe it was the light of recognition that clouded the eyes of the man who pressed her up against the wall. 

Lauren couldn’t pinpoint exactly what happened in that moment. 

_If only I did..._

No one can go back in time. No one can change the past, or see the future... _maybe._ Isn’t it funny how a single moment can define or change the _rest of your life?_ In truth, not funny at all. 

But Lauren didn’t know. She couldn’t. Maybe if she did… _Everything would have been different._


	4. Elusive Encounter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All the cards rested completely in his hands, and she realized too late, that they always had.

Lauren held her breath, but he didn’t push the sword any farther. He just stared.

_Why isn’t he moving? I was totally open._

She used the moment he gave her and whirled out of his grip, giving her the opportunity she needed to deal him a hard kick to the face.

The sword clattered to the stone as the man fell stunned to the ground. Lauren moved swiftly. She pressed a knee into his back and quickly whipped his hands behind him so she could cuff him. Only then did she reach for her gun.

“You have the right to remain silent.” She started the typical speech as she leaned more of her body weight onto his back. “Anything you say can and will be used against you in the court of law.”

To her surprise, the man chuckled. His chest vibrated against the ground as he turned his head so he could glance back at her. “Don’t even bother.” His voice was low and gravelly. Lauren kept her foot by his face, but the man dripped with confidence despite his position. “I’ll be gone before you finish reading me my rights.”

 _This_ was the kind of arrogance she despised. If this man thought he could bluff his way out of her grip then he was all sorts of delusional. 

“You just committed murder, you filthy scumbag. You’re not getting off the hook anytime soon. _That_ you can be sure of.”

“Oh yeah?” His voice took on a playful tone. “And what do you plan to do with a filthy scumbag like me?”

Lauren grimaced. 

_This cocky bastard._ As if he wasn’t the one who made a crucial error by freezing up just seconds before. He wouldn’t stay cocky for long. There was a click as she cocked her gun and shoved the barrel directly into his forehead. She wasn’t playing around. 

“Whatever’s needed to deliver you into the arms of justice,” she bit back.

“Ha!” He closed his eyes and smiled. “Darling, we both know you’re not going to shoot me.”

Lauren’s finger twitched. _Darling?_ “I am a police officer. I’ve been trained to shoot when necessary.” She leaned forward harder into his back to drive her point home. “ _Don’t_ move.”

The radio was scratching painfully into the exposed skin of her back where her shirt had pulled up in the earlier struggle. The time for banter was over, and Lauren was looking forward to the look on Detective March’s face when she brought in the suspect. How far had she run from the crime scene? It might take a second to get some backup. She pulled the radio out of her belt loop and raised it to her lips.

“Well, _officer,_ I’m an assassin…”

Lauren froze.

“And I know how to recognize murderous intentions when I see them. You, _dearie,_ clearly won’t be able to pull that trigger.”

Lauren didn’t hear anything past the word _assassin._ Her fists closed tightly around her radio as she lowered it away from her mouth.

_I knew it._

“So you’re with the Phantom Scythe?” It wasn’t a large leap in logic and his response, whatever it was, would be enough. 

He chuckled again. " ** _N_** ** _o, of course not._ **”

Lauren relaxed her grip on her radio, now sticky with the blood than still coursed down her fingers. The others were far behind her, and she currently had a small window of time where it would be just her and _him_. She might be able to learn more about the Phantom Scythe in the next five minutes than she had learned in the past _year._ Or, at least, since... since the last time she’d come face to face with a monster from the organization. 

“I see. Then you’re right about one thing: I don’t intend to kill you tonight. I need you alive so I can force everything you know about the Phantom Scythe out of you before you go rot in jail where you belong.” The pain in her arm was forgotten as Lauren’s mind raced with possible questions she could ask.

She could only think of one: the identity of the faceless monster from her nightmares. 

“So where’s your leader?”

A pause. 

“ ** _I_** ** _h_** ** _ave no idea what you’re talking about. I only answer to myself._ ** _”_

 _More lies._ Time was short.

“Cut the crap,” Lauren shot back, “I know exactly what you are.”

The assassin raised his head off the stone and laughed into the street. “That’s quite presumptuous of you!” he exclaimed, “but I like your optimism! **_Don’t worry, I’m not part of the Phantom Scythe._** But if I was, shouldn’t you be _fleeing?”_

He was testing her. Lauren was completely focused on the interrogation now. Her eyes moved away from his bound hands as she glared at the offending face of this man who was way too cocky for her liking.

 _Of course he was cocky._ He had the backing of the most powerful terrorist group in history behind him. Every kill had purpose, and up to this point, he’d escaped every scene unscathed. This arrogance was second nature. There wasn’t ever any hesitance to his actions… _Until there was._

“I think _you’re_ the presumptuous one,” Lauren said, fully intending to remind him of his failures and shake _him_ up a bit. “Two murders in one night? Right across the street from each other, _and_ you’re leaving witnesses behind? The city has seen worse criminals than _amateurs_ like you.”

The irony of the situation was Lauren could not have said a more _presumptuous_ statement. _Amateur indeed._ But she didn't know the whole picture. Not yet.

“Aww, was it _that_ bad?” He didn’t sound unnerved in the least. In fact, he sounded completely charmed and at ease, as if he was the one making the rules and she was the novice who just showed up for the first time to play. _“Damn,_ **_I really thought I had a good run going there!_** Two for two! **_Seemed efficient!_ **”

Lauren’s brain scrambled to unlock the meaning behind these sudden lies. Conclusion one: this wasn’t a game. Not to him. Conclusion two: there wasn’t anything unplanned about the sudden back to back murders. No, both kills needed to happen _that night._

It just confirmed the fact that he wasn’t operating on his own. He was a killer by trade, unbothered by the bodies left in his wake. His decisions and choice of employer made him a soulless monster. There was no other word she could use.

 _He murders without feeling_.

Lauren scowled and kept the gun pointed at his head. “Facing justice might be the first _good_ idea you’ve ever had.” 

He still made no move to fight back, seemingly content to carry on their banter that he layered with one-sided flirtation. “Never cross my mind, actually,” he retorted. “No one’s ever been able to catch me before, **_much less defeat me._** ”

A strange revelation. He’d never been caught, but he _had_ been defeated? Not by law enforcement, then. But still, it was useful information. He wasn’t the invincible force he portrayed himself to be.

“Lying, _again,”_ Lauren bit out. “You’ve been bested before and you were again, tonight. But don’t worry, after you’re behind bars, you’ll have all the time in the world to try to convince people you’re invincible.”

She didn’t know what she expected him to say, but the responding laughter made her blood boil. This man was entirely too relaxed. It was infuriating. 

“You’ve got a ready tongue, _officer_ , I like that. The bravery of the ignorant, I suppose.”

 _Ignorant?_ The way he said her title, like a pointless moniker meant to tease, his word choice, and the audacity to laugh repeatedly after he just took the lives of two innocent people, it was all too much for Lauren. 

She leaned forward, infuriated, face just inches from his. “Look, I don’t know who you think you are…” His smirk disappeared as he looked back at her. The passion and resolve bled through her voice as she shifted all of her weight against his back. “But I made a _promise_ to find your leader and make sure he faces justice. Whoever you think I am, _you clearly have no idea of what I’m capable of and how far I’m willing to go_.”

Realization flickered across his face. That last statement unwittingly insured that she would not die that night.

”Oh?” he asked. There was purpose to his tone, now. “What’s that? You’re not doing this because of your occupational responsibility, huh?” Her eyes widened and his sharp eyes picked out the slightest flicker of _something_ across her face. What was that? Uncertainty?

He decided he liked that look. What could he say to invoke it again?

" _ **I**_ _’m sure all your fellow police officers despise the leader_ _."_

_What?_

Lauren leaned back from his face as the implications of the lie screamed throughout her head. That could only mean one thing.

_We have traitors...walking among us, by our sides, in our ranks._

“But not nearly as much as you do,” he continued, enjoying the flash of shock that filled her eyes. “Your hatred...it’s _personal._ ” He continued his diagnoses, watching her reactions as he changed the name of the game. She wasn’t interrogating him. He was interrogating her.

“Revenge quest, right?” he guessed. Lauren swallowed hard. It was the only confirmation he needed. “So, tell me. Who died? Someone in your family?”

Lauren pulled back and he felt her weight shift on his back. 

“Someone you loved?” 

Her lips curled back in a scowl. _Close, but not quite._

“A close friend, perhaps?”

She gritted her teeth as pure rage transformed her features.

“Jackpot.” He was smiling again. “Is that why you became a police officer?”

Lauren’s hands started to shake. Her finger slipped back into position on the trigger of her gun. How could she be so careless? She could read people _so easily,_ but apparently, she was easy to read too. And by an assassin, no less. He’d gotten under her skin before she realized it. Lauren pulled her radio back up. This conversation was over. She’d taken on more risk than she should have. The receiver clicked, and for the first time, she felt the assassin tense up beneath her.

“You shouldn’t do that.”

Curiosity was going to kill her one day. 

“And why not?”

“Because you and I share the same goal - to find the leader and _destroy_ him.”

 _He wasn’t lying._ Her heartbeat thundered in her ears. _Badump. Badump._ She took her finger off the receiver.

“Face it, you policemen will never catch him. Even the assassins don’t know where or who he is. I’m no exception. But if you really want to keep your _promise,_ I would be your best asset.”

Every word he said was true, or at least, he _believed_ it was true. However, his plan had one _major_ flaw.

“You really think I would associate with a bastard like you? You’re day-dreaming,” Lauren responded quickly. Finally, some of the control returned to her voice, but her mind was busily swarming with the possibilities.

_Even the assassins don’t know who their leader is?_

He turned his head to look back up at her. The smirk was gone. His voice was earnest and sincere. The change was unnerving. 

“As much as I trust my own abilities, I know I won’t be able to find him alone. I need an assistant who is able to feed me information and alibis...”

 _He’s telling the truth. He’s telling the truth._ The hook was filled with bait, and Lauren was circling. 

“You know, like a little pet.”

“What?” Lauren spluttered. She’d been propositioned before - it was just part of being a female who looked half-way decent from any angle - but _this?_

“You’re a police officer and I’m an assassin. If we pool our resources, we might actually have a shot at finding the leader. We can work him from both sides of the law.” He finished the rest of his sales pitch quickly. “What do you think, _officer?”_

Lauren gritted her teeth. _The audacity._ She responded by slamming the barrel of her gun straight into the back of his head once more. “There’s _no way_ I would associate with you.” Her eyes coasted down the back of his jacket, stained with the blood of his victims. He made good points, but there was a moral line here, one she could not cross.

“I’ve seen your kind kill women, elders, and _children_ with no remorse. You’re the worst dregs of humanity. Actually...you aren’t even humans. _You’re monsters.”_

He was suddenly silent and still beneath her. She doubted her little speech made him feel guilt, but it _did_ make her feel a little better.

“So you’re wasting your words, assassin. Save them for the judge.” She reached again for her radio. There was nothing else he could say that would surprise her at this point.

She was wrong.

“You know, it’s funny how things work out. I saw your little “demonstration” in the café earlier this evening.” 

She paused again. _The coffee shop? The date? Where was he sitting? I don’t remember…_

He adjusted his backbone beneath her knee. “You’ve got quite a strong grip I must admit. I also noticed that you’re a tiny human lie detector, not that you do much to hide it. So I’m pretty sure you know very well that I’m not lying right now.”

_He wasn’t. Damn._

“Here’s the deal: since we want the same thing, we’d obviously both be better off combining our forces. I can provide you with information on the Phantom Scythe’s operations that no police officer could ever get their hands on.”

She was busy processing what was coming out of his mouth, and she didn’t see his eyes dart over to where his sword lay on the ground, just a couple feet away. 

“You can give me that same information on the police department, or in the unlikely event your peers find anything. And, if anything goes wrong, you can provide me with the perfect alibi!”

_What kind of idiot does he take me for? What part of “you’re wasting your words” did he not understand?_

But he wasn’t done yet. “Plus, I’m sure that your “intuition” or whatever it is would really come in handy. Even if it doesn’t always give you the _right_ answers, at least we can cross off the wrong ones.”

To say she was shocked was an understatement. How could this assassin so flippantly proposition her based on a whim? What was wrong with this guy?

Unless it wasn’t a whim. He seemed to genuinely believe in her abilities. The reality of the situation finally registered with Lauren.

 _The questions. The lies. This whole interrogation._ He’d been playing her, testing her from the start. At no point was this situation under her control. No, the only thing she had was the gun to his head and the knee to his back. 

“I’m going to help you find the leader.” _The bait._ “And in exchange, you’re going to drop that gun and let me walk free. If you’re fool enough to try to throw me in jail, you won’t get anything out of me.” _The hook._

For the first time during the whole exchange, Lauren was tempted. Her eyes were still focused on the back of his head. She hadn’t looked down at his hands for a good minute. 

“Besides, either way,” he added casually, “I’m going to escape.”

She shook the temptation out of her head. “You’re cuffed with a gun pointed at your head.”

“Aw, please! That’s insulting,” he scoffed. “I’m _an assassin_ , darling. Did you really think handcuffs or some bars could stop me?” 

If time was lagging before, it sped up now. He raised his hands, completely free, the handcuffs currently attached to a single wrist. 

Lauren’s heart jumped into her throat. “How did you…”

There wasn’t time to say anything else. With one hand he slapped the gun out of her grasp, with the other he snatched up his sword. In the next second she was on her back as he held down her good arm with one hand and hovered the point of his sword over her throat with the other. The useless handcuffs dangled from one wrist.

There was no point in moving, even she could admit that. All the cards rested completely in his hands, and she realized too late, _that they always had._ His cold blue eyes stared down at her as he straddled her waist and kept her pinned to the ground.

“You were right about one thing, though, _officer.”_ The mirth and flirtation completely disappeared. His voice was steel, cold, and unwavering. “ _We are monsters.”_

Lauren swallowed hard as the blade inched closer to her throat, still bleeding from the last time its edge had pressed up against her. 

“I kill without hesitation, **_and I have no regrets._** "

Lauren barely registered the lie.

“Rest assured that I wouldn’t hesitate to slit your pretty little throat if you ever become a nuisance.”

He locked onto her eyes and she stared back, unflinching. Ironically, this was the moment she realized he wasn’t about to kill her. The offer was a legitimate one. 

“It’s up to you,” he finished as he abruptly pulled back the sword and returned it to its sheath. The smirk returned and he snapped his gloved fingers and lifted himself up. “I’m off anyways. I’ll give you twenty-four hours to mull it over.” He glanced down at her one more time, before turning and walking away. 

“If you’re interested, meet me at the bridge at midnight tomorrow. _Don’t_ be late. Sleep well!” He raised his hand in farewell and Lauren watched him go, completely rooted to her spot. 

Her energy was spent. Her hand was bleeding, and she felt like a fool. The assassin had long since disappeared by the time she pulled herself up. 

She raised the radio to her lips one more time. It crackled and came to life.

“Officer Sinclair here.” She stared at the empty street. “I have lost the target.”

But had she really? He'd just told her where she could expect him to be the next evening, _and it wasn't a lie._ It was hard to believe what had just transpired. 

She had a rendezvous with a killer. The question was, would she choose to accept?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While writing this I realized something...Kieran's handcuffs just like...disappeared? They were there on one panel and gone on the next. Eph. Soph. WHAT HAPPENED TO THE CUFFS?


	5. Merciless Murderer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She could see the terrified man as he backed into the desk as the assassin approached, eyes gleaming, sword drawn. He raised his pistol. He fired. He missed.

She stared at the empty alleyway for a few seconds longer.

_“Officer Sinclair here. I have lost the target.”_

_It would be foolish to chase him again._ It was a reasonable line of thought. Completely logical. She _definitely_ wasn’t trying to convince herself that she was _interested._ She raised a hand to her neck and traced the small bleeding cut with her finger. _It could have been so much worse._

The night was quiet again, and Lauren snatched her mask and gun off the ground and turned back to the street. The others would be worried about her. It was time to go back.

The whole area had been blocked off by the time she made it back to Whiteriver Street. Red flashing lights covered the whole area in an eerie glow. Backup had arrived along with an ambulance. Lauren noted the white clad medical personnel standing idly by their vehicles. That could only mean one thing: there wasn’t anyone to care for. They were all dead.

A cart carrying one of the bodies rolled by her at that second just to prove the point. The sheet that covered the victim was already stained with blood. 

_Of course. Sword wounds bleed much more than gun wounds…_

The very same sword that had pierced these bodies had been pointed at her throat just minutes before while its wielder looked down at her and she looked back…Even now she could describe him in detail.

So _why?_ _Why did he just let me go? Why did I let him go?_

Too many questions that she didn’t have answers for yet. 

“Yes, Sergeant Ladell tried to catch up but she couldn’t…”

Lauren quickly darted her head around. That was Will’s voice. Both Kym and Will were there, talking with another officer by one of the patrol cars. Kym was leaned up against the cruiser. Her hair was flopped over her face as she looked down at her toes, arms crossed in the perfect picture of dejection.

Will was giving orders, ready to start the search for Lauren when Kym glanced to the side. Her face lit up as the single redhead approached the group.

“Lauren!” Kym belted. She jumped up and quickly brushed by Will as she made a beeline for her lost comrade. Lauren muffled a grunt as Kym wrapped her arms around her, buried her face in her chest, and squeezed hard. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?” She squeezed tighter. “I’m so glad you’re back!”

“Of course I am,” Lauren managed to get out. “Why were you so worried?” She awkwardly patted the back of the desperate midget attached to her waist.

“You were gone for so long, I was about to send someone out to look for you!” Will said as he walked up to the two. “What happened?” 

“He got away,” Lauren admitted as Kym finally detached herself. “I thought I had him, but I wasn’t able to hold him.” It wasn’t a complete lie. She _did_ have him, at one point…

“Had him? So you caught up to…” Kym trailed off as her eyes found the trail of blood stained down Lauren’s arm. “Wait! You’re bleeding!” 

Lauren’s hand automatically went to the blade mark at her throat.

“That scumbag!” Will burst out as he leaned forward to get a closer look at Lauren’s injuries. “He did that to you!”

“I know. I was being careless,” Lauren said as she reached up to wipe the blood from her face and only succeeded in spreading it further across her cheeks. “It won’t happen again.” The blood was drying on her arm, but the area that had been ripped open still hurt like hell. Lauren turned and started walking towards the ambulance. Antiseptic was probably her best option right now.

“So you fought him?” Kym pressed as she followed behind.

“Yes. I wounded him, but not enough to slow him down.” Lauren narrowed her eyes and thought back. In reality, she’d only been able to land three good hits. A foot and knee to his shoulder and that one really good kick to his face. He’d probably have a bruise, but nothing more. 

Her body hurt all over from where he’d repeatedly been able to make contact the same number of times. Her back between the shoulder blades. The right side of her face. Her throat. 

“So you did catch him?” Kym asked. She sounded like she didn’t quite believe it. Lauren squinted and looked over at her friends who were following her closely. Both their faces were creased in concern. She’d caught up to perps before. Why were they so freaked out this time?

“He escaped me,” Lauren managed. _More or less…_

“What’s surprising is that you actually escaped _him,”_ Kym said pointedly. Lauren raised an eyebrow. 

“Could you describe him?” Will asked. 

Lauren stopped. Could she describe him? _Hell yes, I can describe him._ But did she really want to? There was so much about this situation that she didn’t know or understand yet. 

“Male. Tall, slim but strong, black long coat. Probably in his twenties or thirties. The only weapon I saw was a sword, of all things,” she replied. It was a vague description, but Will seemed thrilled nonetheless. 

“Remarkable!” he exclaimed, “Captain Hermann is at the second crime scene, waiting for you to report. But let me help you, we have to get this bandaged first.”

Lauren froze. Antiseptic suddenly became optional. Gangrene paled in comparison to the captain's wrath. “Captain Hermann is here? Then I _really_ can’t be late.” The injured arm hung loosely at her side and Lauren gripped it tighter. “I’m fine, seriously. I have to give my report. Let’s go.”

She started towards the crime scene, but Kym reached out and grabbed her good wrist to stop her.

“You always push yourself too far,” Kym pointed out. “It’s not healthy. _I’ll_ help you.”

Lauren grimaced. She’d rather face the assassin again than Doctor Kym. Will immediately stepped in and grabbed Kym’s arm.

“Stop! Are you crazy?” Will exclaimed, “With your skills, you’re more likely to kill her instead!”

“What did you just, you _twat?”_ Kym shot back, ever respectful of her superior officer. Lauren just stood there with Kym hanging on to her and Will hanging on to Kym. She rolled her eyes as her lieutenant and sergeant immediately dove into one of their verbal sparring matches.

“The last time you treated my wounds you fed me some weird tea that gave the _runs_ for a week!” Will growled. 

“Well, I’m _glad,_ ” Kym huffed, “You deserved every bit of it!”

Lauren managed to detach herself from Kym’s grip and silently made her way over to the ambulance. There was a roll of bandaging sitting on the bumper. 

_That’ll do._

“If I waited for you two, I would have already bled to death,” Lauren commented as she wrapped the cloth around the gash on her arm. She would have to clean it and rewrap it later, but this would do for now. “Let’s go.”

Kym and Will abruptly stopped their arguing and quickly bounded back over to Lauren’s side. Will awkwardly cleared his throat. 

“Lauren,” he began. Lauren rolled her eyes. There it was. _The Mom voice._ “You should get some rest first. I don’t think you understand who you just fought.”

“Yeah, I know,” Lauren said. She was sure they all had guessed it by now. “An Assassin from the Phantom Scythe.”

“Not just any assassin. You’re lucky to be alive,” Kym said. Kym was always one for theatrics and exaggeration, but there wasn’t any sarcasm or joking in her voice, and somehow, that was terrifying. How serious did this situation have to be in order for Kym to treat it... _seriously?_

“What?” Lauren asked.

“Come on. See for yourself,” Will said as he led the way towards the second crime scene. The tone of both her coworkers troubled her. What had she’d actually gotten herself into? Who was this guy?

“Did you at least see his face?” Kym asked.

Lauren paused. Sharp blue eyes and an infuriating smirk flashed before her. She remembered every detail, every fleck or blemish of skin, every dark hair that curled over his forehead. The thick eyebrows. _The eyes._

“No,” she replied shortly. Kym seemed satisfied with the answer, and followed Will into the building. A series of knots twisted up in Lauren’s chest.

_When did I start lying to them?_

The second crime scene was a large study that was already filled with officers and detectives. Captain Hermann stood in the corner and watched as forensics inspected the body. He turned when Will entered the room.

“Lieutenant,” the captain greeted shortly. 

“Captain Hermann, Officer Sinclair is back,” Will replied as he bowed his head respectfully. 

“Officer Sinclair. _Finally,”_ Hermann said. He reached up two fingers to push against his forehead as if he was suddenly struck with a migraine. He didn’t even look at Lauren. “Report.”

“The assassin escaped,” Lauren said quickly as she stood at attention, “I and two other officers were in pursuit, but they were soon outpaced. I pursued him for as long as I could, and engaged him in a fight before losing him as well.”

Did she sound as nervous as she felt? The captain still didn’t look back at her. Forget that she had just chased a murderer nearly a half mile across the city: it wouldn’t be good enough for the captain. It never would be when it came to her.

“ _However._ ” Will abruptly stepped forward and spoke up. “Officer Sinclair got close enough to him to be able to tell that we are dealing with a man, tall, slim, and in his twenties or thirties.”

Lauren almost smiled. That was Will. He always had everyone’s back, and continued to do whatever he could to ease tensions between herself and the captain. It seemed to work. Captain Hermann finally turned to look at her.

“I see. Impressive. I’m _pleasantly_ surprised, Sinclair.”

It would have been a nice comment if Lauren didn’t know how to read between the lines, specifically the slight accentuation on the word ‘pleasantly.’ She gritted her teeth and resolved that her emotion would not show on her face. She’d put herself in this situation, anyway.

The room was a mess, and Lauren distracted herself by looking over the crime scene. Furniture was knocked over and out of place. Vases were broken. Blood was all over the floor and there was a large splash of it on the walls as well.

“What happened here?” Lauren ventured out loud. 

“Ah, yes. Sergeant Ladell? Lieutenant Hawkes?” Hermann said, clearly waiting on their report.

“The victim was named Robert De La Rocca,” Kym began, “Forty-years old, male. He was a rich merchant and owned large shares in the Royal Navy’s shipyards, the main source of his fortune.”

Lauren’s eyes darted about the room as Kym went on. Robert’s body still gripped a handgun in his hand. At least he went out fighting.

“His influence on the shipping market was considerable, and much like the late Lady Grayson across the street, he was known to have close ties with the royal family. It’s no surprise that the Phantom Scythe targeted them both.”

Lauren’s heartbeat raced as she recalled the assassin’s lies. The double-murder wasn’t one of convenience. The Phantom Scythe was sending a message. 

“But it’s still unusual,” Will pointed out, “Since they both recently publicly denounced the monarchy. Maybe in an attempt to save their own skins. No one supporting the royals is safe. The Phantom Scythe has always targeted the citadel’s ruling family.”

Lauren nodded slightly. Ah yes, the Aevasther ruling family. Their royal crest was a crowned stag on a shield framed in beautiful purple hyacinths. The family consisted of the king, his queen, and the young prince. 

“Good assumption, but forensics found more,” Detective March added. He’d been kneeling by the body and slowly got up off his knees. “Rocca appears to have fought back before the assassin killed him. The gunshot you all heard was from De La Rocca’s weapon.”

Lauren had already deduced as much. She was making her way around the room. Rocca had fired his weapon, and it hadn’t made it’s mark, evidently. The assassin didn’t have any trouble jumping buildings or fighting back. Definitely not the actions of someone who had just been shot.

If the bullet didn’t hit the assassin then it had to be... _bingo._ Her fingers circled around a small hole in the wallpaper. 

“That makes sense. As near as I could tell, the assassin was only carrying a sword. He probably got into the mansion through a window and waited for his target to fall into his trap,” Lauren said aloud. She glanced over her shoulder again at the body. “He mustn’t have expected that the man would be carrying a gun.”

The table stood crookedly in the center of the room. Lauren looked from the doorway then to where the body lay. She could almost see the whole scene play out before her mind. Robert ran from the assassin and received a sword slash to his back. He slammed up against the wall before trying to take aim with the pistol...

“De La Rocca must’ve tried to defend himself and shot at the assassin, but missed.”

She could see the terrified man as he backed into the desk as the assassin approached, eyes gleaming, sword drawn. He raised his pistol. He fired. He missed.

“Probably because he would have been trying to run away at the same time, as he seems to have collided with the desk,” Lauren mused. “If he was running, that would also explain the wound on his back. He must’ve turned around to try to shoot the assassin again.”

Those eyes flashed before her again. They were the last thing De La Rocca probably ever saw. Lauren scowled. “Which is when the scumbag finished his work by slitting De La Rocca’s throat.” The trail of blood went from the body to the window where remnants of glass were sprinkled across the floor. “And then the killer escaped through the window, which is when I spotted him.”

The forensic officer who was busy bagging the evidence looked up at Lauren in surprise. Kym smirked at her and Lauren lowered her hand off the wall. She’d done it again. Gone all detective mode.

“Good analysis, Sinclair,” March commented with a grin.

Captain Hermann grunted. He _was not_ grinning. “Leave the investigating to the detectives, _Officer_ Sinclair.”

Lauren winced. No need to read between the lines on that one. 

“An official investigation will be opened tomorrow,” March declared as he pulled out his notepad. “What we know for sure, looking at the method, is that the two murders tonight were definitely committed by the same killer. And of course, it just had to be the worst Ardhalis has ever known.”

 _“The worst Ardhalis has ever known?”_ Lauren looked over quizzically at Kym and Will. 

Kym just nodded at her and crossed her arms. _I told you so._

“I will alert the castle and the royal guard. Their security needs to be tightened before he strikes again,” one of the officers declared. 

Lauren looked from one face to the other. _He? Who is he?_

“It has been a curiously long time since he was last seen around the city. Killing two people on the same night is not his typical _modus operandi_ , either,” March added.

Lauren clenched her fist. She was missing something. Something important.

“Just like vermin, when we thought he was finally gone for good, he pops back up,” Will said bitterly. Kym nodded in firm agreement.

“And as always, the sneaky bastard slipped through our fingers! Even when we were closer than ever to catching him,” Kym added.

_Who the hell is him?_

“What do you mean?” Lauren finally asked, frustrated. “We already know the identity of the killer?”

Everyone turned simultaneously and stared at Lauren like she was the last one to get the joke.

“Of course we know,” March said. Hermann motioned at one of the forensic officers and they quickly reached into the duffel and pulled out an evidence bag.

“He signed his murders,” Hermann explained, “Like he always does. Officer Sinclair, the assassin you encountered tonight is none other than…” He turned and held out the bag to her. It held a single purple blossom, still dripping with De La Rocca’s blood.

“The _Purple Hyacinth.”_


	6. Rogue Rebel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Justice was all fine and good, but revenge, now that was a sweet word on his tongue.

They say the sun never truly hits the ground in Greychapel…

Perhaps that’s part of the reason for all the sickness, but there's more than one type of disease. Crime attracts more crime, and it isn’t long before every power-hungry demon who flinches in the sunlight comes to call. 

They like to drink, too. 

The Grim Goblin: entertainment and pleasure center of the underground. Home to the agents of the Phantom Scythe: the kind of people who would rather make you scream in pain than make you laugh. The most potent of pleasure is derived from the former. 

Cigar smoke filled the air and mingled with the stench of sweat and alcohol. All patrons were already nose blind to any and all. The door to the tavern opened just as a burst of laughter erupted from a poker table in the corner. 

“I know!” A heavy-set man chuckled around the cigar in his mouth. A cheap suit with an equally atrocious tie matched the timber of his appearance. He picked his eyes off the cards in his hands and leaned forward towards his two companions at the table. “My guys robbed some idiot nobles just yesterday - like stealing from infants! Cry as much, too!” 

The group snickered. Flattered by the attention and already relaxed with the amount of alcohol in his system, the man leaned back in his chair and balanced a knife on his forefinger. 

“Shrieking like stuck pigs whenever they see a knife! They looked like they were gonna piss themselves! And then they go cry to the cops, like _the cops_ can do anything,” he finished. “Just another pen of squealing pigs!”

Laughter erupted again. They didn’t notice the newcomer walking into the bar until he passed by the table. His presence demanded attention. A wide collared trench coat partially hid his face from the group at the poker table, but the long sword swinging from his waist was all they needed to confirm his identity, even though he'd already washed away all signs of blood. 

The man smoking the cigar instantly quieted. “Oh, shit,” he hissed to the group, “It’s the _Purple Hyacinth!”_

“Keep your voices low!” one of the poker players added. “This guy’s dangerous. He’s the deadliest of all of us.”

“Yeah, I heard. The man’s a freak! He has more kills than anyone else in the Phantom Scythe combined!”

It was a highly embellished rumor, one the Purple Hyacinth did not discourage. He wasn’t about to let the conversation at the poker table bother him. People said what they wanted, and there was no such thing as bad publicity.

“No one has ever had the guts to do what he’s done before. He’s a demon sent straight from hell.”

_Case and point._

One particularly obnoxious patron seated at the end of the poker table belched as he glanced over at the assassin in question. “Tsk,” he slurred loudly, “He can’t be _that bad_ \- I mean, have any of you ever seen him before?”

“A few times,” his companion replied, “He’s probably here to report a new kill.”

Alcohol makes even the wisest of men fools, and the drunkard at the edge at the poker table was not a wise man. The uneasiness and fear written over the faces of his friends went unnoticed as he raised his bottle confidently. 

“I bet he’s all bark and no bite!” he announced. “He’s the leader’s favorite little _pet._ His personal attack dog! Think he’s above us common guttersnipes. Isn’t the whole point of all of this to be beyond all that?” An eloquent speech, given the speaker’s condition and IQ. Eloquent, but not very smart.

“Oi!” he called out bravely. (Please recall that bravery and stupidity often walk hand in hand. It is difficult to distinguish one from the other. In this situation, the speaker in question is most definitely walking that line). He slammed his bottle down on the poker table and withdrew a knife from his pocket. “Why don’t you come say hello to your _comrades?_ ”

The Purple Hyacinth didn’t even turn his head in acknowledgment.

“Huh, bastard?” the obnoxious fool bellowed. As drunk as he was, he still managed to throw the knife with some accuracy. The blade seared through the air, passing just inches from the face of the Purple Hyacinth.

The reaction was immediate.

The assassin caught the offending blade between his fingers and shot it back towards the table with a simple flick of his wrist. It landed with a thud in the center and scattered the poker pieces across the green felt of the board. 

Deafening silence descended throughout the whole pub as everyone turned to watch the situation play out.

The Purple Hyacinth finally turned his attention towards the table and the trembling group who sat petrified under his gaze. One of them wisely jumped up and smashed the face of the drunken fool who originally threw the knife into the corner of the table. 

“Our deepest apologies, sir!” The man’s voice was trembling and frantic. “This piece of shit is very drunk! He didn’t know what he was doing!”

“Oh?” The Purple Hyacinth smiled, and the poker table held their breath. “Maybe next time I’ll drop by to report _your_ deaths, _comrades.”_

The group just stared at him, completely petrified. He glared at them for a second more, just for the fun of it, before turning to leave.

“Hey! Don’t piss off the Purple Hyacinth! Do you have a death wish?” 

It was the last thing the assassin heard as he left the front of the tavern. If he’d known that two out of the three men at the poker table wet their pants during the whole encounter, his satisfaction would have been greatly increased.

Activity in the bar returned to normal as everyone turned back to their drinks.

The noise vanished as the Purple Hyacinth closed the door behind him as he made his way to the back of the building, past all the glassware and bottles of liquor. The floorboards creaked uneasily beneath his feet, a quiet witness of the traffic this floor had seen over the years.

And he should know.

He briefly stopped before a small cell on the right. A single chair sat in the center, wrapped with chains still painted with dried blood. The visual triggered a slew of memories.

_Cries. Screams. Unforgettable agony._

He took a sharp intake of breath and abruptly turned away from the cell, back towards his initial destination. The tall black door to the side loomed familiarly overhead, a single thin window at the top. His feelings for what lay beyond it were a jumbled, tangled web of darkness and blood that he tried to push away daily, with little success.

He opened the door and went inside.

It was dark and musty in the room. What little light there was streamed from the tiny window above the door, illuminating the person in front of him.

And what a view it was.

Messenger IV, assigned communicator for the Phantom Scythe stood behind a desk, the single bit of furniture in the room. A grey plague mask with dark mesh holes at the eyes covered all facial features. A dark cloak, thick white cravat, and brown high collared shirt hid the rest of him. 

Perhaps it was a blessing that he couldn’t see the eyes.

“The targets, Robert De La Rocca and Rosa Grayson, were eliminated tonight. I brought the documents the leader wanted me to retrieve. As suspected, they were both working for the police, trying to infiltrate the Phantom Scythe.” 

The speech came out like lines rehearsed for a play. There wasn’t the slightest flicker of inflection or emotion in his voice. He pulled the evidence from his coat and lightly tossed the stack of papers onto the desk before Messenger IV. 

“They were careless enough to leave evidence behind.” The time it took to retrieve the papers almost cost him dearly. The police arrived sooner than expected. But the messenger didn’t need to know _all_ the details.

Messenger IV tilted his head down at the documents. There was a slight pause before they spoke. The voice was gravelly, muffled by the long mask and layers of fabric. “Anything else to report?”

The Purple Hyacinth straightened up. _Apparent_ full disclosure was the name of the game. It was the only way he’d survived to this point.

“Grayson’s maid alerted the police. They arrived while I was finishing my second task.” A smile flickered across his features for the first time. “But as always, they were too slow.”

The cocky tone did not impress the messenger. “It’s not like you to be taken by surprise like that. I hope you weren’t seen.” 

It was phrased as a casual comment, but the threat in the undertones rang loud in clear. It wasn’t _“I hope you weren’t seen,”_ it was “ _You’d better not been seen.”_

He stood straight and the smile on his face grew wider. “Of course not.” The reply dripped with attitude, exactly what had come to be expected from him.

Messenger IV seemed satisfied with this answer, and they started to pile up the stack of evidence on the table. “Well, no matter. You carried out your work per orders, as always.”

_"As always."_

The memories flashed forward again. _The frightened eyes of someone who cared. The flash of the blade. The blood. The pain that followed._

_“You...you were that boy…”_

He could escape law enforcement. Run circles around the cops until they were blue in the face. But he couldn’t escape everything.

 _“He’s a demon sent straight from hell.”_ The comment held some sort of truth, but the drunk who made the statement probably wasn’t aware hell’s entrance rested in the back of the pub. 

The smile disappeared and the Purple Hyacinth narrowed his eyes ever so slightly. “Yes,” he repeated shortly. “ _As always_.”

If Messenger IV heard the almost imperceivable change in tone, they didn’t comment on it. “The leader will be pleased to hear about this.” They looked up from the documents. “Also, a word of advice, _try not to upset him._ You may be the Purple Hyacinth, _but he’s still watching you_.”

Thinly veiled threats seemed to be the name of the game tonight. 

The smile returned along with the cocky attitude. “Never crossed my mind,” he replied. 

“Good.” The messenger straightened up as they tapped the stack of papers together on the desk. “We’ll be in contact soon.”

Happy to go, the assassin turned to leave, lifting a hand in farewell. “Well, thank you for the kind warning, comrade. But honestly...” His hand paused on the doorknob. The messenger could only see his back, and he allowed himself to relish the rush of satisfaction that filled his body. 

The plan was in motion already, a vendetta that had waited too long for him to take action. Justice was all fine and good, but _revenge_ , now _that_ was a sweet word on his tongue. He smiled, not able to help it. The messenger was none the wiser. Not yet, anyway. 

“Who would be reckless enough to threaten the leader, huh?”

Having the last word was admittedly a nice thing to have. 


	7. Troubling Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The murder scenes were gruesome, graphic, and disturbingly artistic. He’d nailed bodies to walls. Painted backdrops and murals of a grim reaper, outlined in blood, over the remains of his victims. 

Hermann’s announcement cut through Lauren like a knife. The bloodied flowers cut slivers through her irises. Her heart was beating so hard she felt for sure Will or Kym could hear it. 

_The Purple Hyacinth? Him?_

Lauren subconsciously reached for her neck again, feeling the small cut against the pads of her fingers. Her pulse jumping beneath her fingertips. Kym was right. She was still breathing, and it _was_ a miracle. His face flashed before her unbidden. The eyes. The smirk.

 _S_ _o it was him? I was running after him?_ And she’d been at the edge of his sword less than a half hour ago. The blood drained from her face.

“No shame in losing him, Lauren,” Kym comforted as she saw Lauren’s expression, “No one’s even got near him in the seven years he’s been active.”

 _“No one’s ever been able to catch me before.”_ Lauren swallowed hard. Kym squeezed Lauren’s shoulder in reassurance, completely oblivious to the hurricane exploding in Lauren’s head at that moment. 

“You’re lucky to be alive,” Kym added. Lauren glanced at Kym.

_Oh, Kym, you have no idea._

Of all the assassins that could have slipped through her fingers...why did it have to be _him?_

The Purple Hyacinth: the most powerful weapon in the Phantom Scythe’s arsenal. 

The most dreaded assassin in Ardhalis. Author of the Hanbury massacre of ‘24. This man’s hands were stained with more blood than she could fathom. Uncle Tristan wasn’t flippant with the details, and Lauren had never worked on a case related to his murders. She only knew what was common information about him.

The murder scenes were gruesome, graphic, and disturbingly artistic. He’d nailed bodies to walls. Painted backdrops and murals of a grim reaper, outlined in blood, over the remains of his victims. 

He left no trace, no evidence, except for one thing: his signature Purple Hyacinth next to each of the corpses he left in his wake. 

_And I was almost one of them._

“You know, civilians sometimes claim to see his shadow running across the rooftops at night,” March said, interrupting Lauren’s train of thought. “But no one has ever gotten close enough to be able to describe him as precisely as Officer Sinclair did tonight.”

He looked at her pointedly and Lauren sighed inwardly. Will wasn’t the only one trying to beef her up and make her look shiny to Hermann. If only March knew the truth about the actual encounter…

But he didn’t know, so he continued his thinly disguised praise of Lauren while she clenched her fists in a mixture of guilt and frustration. “We may have lost valuable assets tonight, but now we know who we’re looking for, at least. The details you were able to provide tonight are of immeasurable value. _As always,_ well done, Officer Sinclair.”

Now he was just rubbing salt in the wounds. 

_Well done? After all these years, we finally could’ve had him and...I let that bastard go._

Hermann could not let any praise of Lauren pass without some sort of criticism to follow it up. “It was a reckless move. You should have waited for backup. You were very lucky tonight.” 

_Hah, lucky._

“He probably didn’t consider that the maid would be awake,” Will commented, “or that the police could respond as soon as we did. It’s fortunate we happen to live nearby.”

“Or maybe it was intentional: two murders back-to-back,” Kym mused, “Make sure we can see him but still can’t catch him. A power play.”

Will and Kym. Pulling the negative limelight off of her, once again. Between the three of them, Kym, March, and Will, Lauren had quite the team of subtle cheerleaders. As with everything, it didn’t go unnoticed. 

“Plausible, Ladell,” Hermann acknowledged. He turned to the window and glanced down at the street below. His lips twisted into a scowl. “He’s been taunting the royal family for years now. He co-opts their family crest as some sort of sick _joke._ ” He gripped the bagged flower tightly in his fist. Lauren decided now would not be a good time to inform the captain that wrinkling or crushing the flower like that would remove any chance of pulling prints from it. Not that this assassin was careless enough to leave such a thing.

“A threat, more likely,” Will commented to Kym.

Was it though? Just a reference to the royal crest? Someone had once told her differently...

_“Do you know what Purple Hyacinths mean?”_

_“They’re the symbol of the royal family, silly!”_

_“Only half right - there’s another meaning too.”_

“What if they’re an apology?” Lauren blurted it out before she could stop herself. 

“That’s impossible,” Kym scoffed, “Any regret he might have had has long been drowned by all the blood on his hands.”

What was one of the things he lied about? _“_ ** _And I have no regrets_** _.”_ There wasn’t a lot of grey area there. He either did or he didn’t. But Kym didn’t need to know that.

“You’re right,” she agreed quietly. One lie didn’t erase the truths before her. It didn’t wipe the blood from the walls. Whether he regretted his actions or not, it never stopped him from going through with his kills. And, in the end, did it matter if the man was human or not? The shed blood always amounted to the same, regardless of the state of the conscience. 

“Regardless, this isn’t his usual political terrorism. Rocca and Grayson were recently recruited as double agents. They were assigned to try to infiltrate the Phantom Scythe’s underground network. Only those with the highest security clearance were aware,” March explained. “Seems like the leader is always one step ahead of us.”

_Wasn’t that the truth._

“Hawkes, Ladell, Sinclair, I want to thank you three for coming so quickly tonight. The investigation unit will take care of the rest. You are now dismissed,” Captain Hermann cut in quickly. 

“Yes, sir!”

Lauren bowed her head and turned to the door.

The message was clear. She wasn’t a detective anymore, and she didn’t need to know anymore about the case, not in Hermann’s eyes. 

They weren’t even out of the house completely before Kym started voicing her opinions. “What a prick. Good to see he still has it out for you, Lauren,” she commented loudly. Lauren shrugged and rolled her eyes. 

_It is what it is. I messed up._ Captain Hermann just had an inability to forget _anything._

“Are you sure Hermann doesn’t have it out for _you,_ Kym _?_ ” Will asked.

Kym glowered. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, if I was him…”

“Finish that sentence, I dare you,” Kym interrupted. Lauren dazed out while the two resurrected their earlier banter. 

Hermann constantly called her out because _she_ stepped out of bounds once before. How much worse of a position could she put herself in if she decided to step out again? 

“Lauren, you coming?” Kym called.

“Huh?” Lauren snapped her head up and shook herself out of the thoughts. “Ah, yes.”

The night was clear and uncharastically warm. The three officers walked down Whiteriver street with their coats draped over their arms. Kym and Will did most of the talking while Lauren zoned out periodically. The group walked together until they reached the end of the street and they had to part ways.

Kym yawned and slid a hand into her pocket. “Finally, it’s time to go home!” she exclaimed. Her fingers closed around the cold smooth edge of the pocket watch and she pulled it out, purely out of habit. It popped open and Lauren and Will glanced down. Kym froze briefly. 

A look of well-feigned surprise quickly covered up any previous emotion as Kym let out a gasp and stared down at the open pocket watch in her palm. 

“ ** _It sure is running faster today!_ ** ” she commented. The hands on the clock were clearly not moving. The small hand was forever stuck at the two while the long hand hovered over the five. The glass was immaculate and the gold spotless and shiny, with the exception of the initials _D. L._ carved into the edge. The watch was in perfect condition, except for the fact that it didn’t work.

“It’s super late!” Kym added. She quickly snapped the watch shut and slipped it back into her pocket. “Alright guys, I’m heading home! I intend to sleep like a log for the rest of the night.” She abruptly turned and grabbed Will by the tie. He predictably shrank back as Kym glared up at him. “But you, _William,_ make sure she gets home safe! Or I’ll kill you.”

 _Damn, woman. You weren’t lying about that last part._ Lauren had to smile. 

“Ciao, peasants!”

“Bye, Kym!” Lauren called cheerfully. Kym flashed a peace symbol over her shoulder while Will just glared after her. 

Once the mama bear was effectively out of earshot, Lauren turned to Will. “Don’t worry about it, Will. I’ll be fine on my own. See you tomorr…”

Lauren trailed off as Will suddenly grasped her wrist. “Do you seriously think I’m going to let you walk home tonight?” he asked incredulously. “You just spent half the night chasing down the most notorious killer in the city. He could be anywhere, waiting for you.”

Kym pulled her wrist out of Will’s hand and turned away. He was her oldest and best friend. She could hear lies, but William had always been good at reading them on her face. The truth was, the killer would not be waiting for her tonight. No, he’d be waiting for her on the bridge at midnight tomorrow. 

“I’ll be fine, Will,” Lauren insisted as she clenched her fists. She hated hiding from him. “You know better than anyone that I can defend myself.”

Will smiled and pulled back his hand, not offended in the least. “Don’t be silly, of course I know. But won’t you let an old friend walk you home, just this once?” 

_That mom voice again._ Lauren looked back at him. He was smiling charmingly with those big puppy-dog eyes of his. 

“Our houses are in the same direction anyways,” he added for good measure. 

Lauren sighed and relented. “Fine, _Mother_ ,” she laughed as she grasped his shoulder. “But don’t you dare slow me down. My bed awaits.”

“Yes, yes, at least one of us can sleep tonight. Don’t you ever miss our academy days?”

“Oh, the good old days with no midnight calls about deranged criminals? Simpler times, certainly,” Lauren agreed as she pulled a hand through her hair. 

“Sometimes I wonder if we really should’ve graduated early,” Will mused.

“Ha! We would’ve been far too bored, otherwise! We were already driving our instructors mad,” Lauren pointed out.

“True!” Will laughed. “But who would’ve thought we’d go from playing cops and robbers in your mother’s garden to _this?”_

“Definitely not me,” Lauren said. She turned her eyes upward at the starless night. Days flew by, seasons changed, but those stars up there always stayed the same. It was reassuring, somehow. Now she went home to an uncle and the housekeepers. Now she wore a patrol badge instead of a detective badge. Now she was missing so many people, including her mother. 

_How quickly things change._

“How has _your_ mother been lately?” Lauren asked hesitantly. She sensed Will withdraw almost immediately. 

“The usual,” he replied quietly. 

Lauren sighed. That was all she was going to get out of him. “I see... Well, I’m sure her health will improve soon. With everything you’ve tried, _something_ has to work.”

Will was silent.

“Speaking of work!” Lauren exclaimed, switching gears and elbowing him sharply in the side. “You’ve been slacking off on your officer-duties. Your squad is running wild! Just look at me and Kym!”

Will’s eyes turned into dark pits of rage and frustration of the most potent kind. “Ah... _Kym Ladell._ That woman drives me insane! She never listens and every time I open my mouth she argues!”

Lauren laughed, knowing full-well that Will was secretly fond of the high-energy sergeant. They all were. “God bless her! Isn’t she the best?”

“The worst,” Will contradicted dryly. “Curse the day she was assigned to me.”

“She’d be hurt if she heard that!”

“She’s lucky she’s observant and never misses her target.”

Lauren smirked. “Charming.”

Conversation made the time pass quickly and it wasn’t long before they were standing on the porch of the Sinclair Estate house. Lauren had successfully cheered up Will, and they’d spent the majority of the time laughing until their sides hurt.

“You know, Lauren, a lot’s been different since we got our badges,” Will said. Lauren smiled in agreement. Will glanced over at the red oak front door of the Sinclair house. “But I’m glad some things didn’t change at all.” 

“And some things never will,” Lauren agreed. They both were quiet for a moment, stuck in the happy reminiscing. Lauren finally sighed and straightened up. “Now, thank you, gentleman. The lady has been delivered safely. You can go sleep now, too.”

“See you tomorrow, Lauren! Good night.”

Lauren managed a grin and waved in farewell. It wasn’t until he disappeared around the estate entrance gate that her lips relaxed and she took off her other mask, the invisible one she wore almost constantly, even around Will. 

She left her shoes and jacket at the front door and tiptoed into the house on socked feet, careful not to wake her uncle. Instead of going to her room she headed straight to the study. 

Now that Will was gone, her mind emptied of happy memories of their childhood and the academy, focusing only on that _thing,_ that _obsession._

The words of the Purple Hyacinth echoed in her ears.

_“You’re not doing this because of your occupational responsibility. It’s personal.”_

Lauren walked over to the box full of paper in the corner and picked up the newspaper from earlier. She scowled at the headline. The assassin was right. It _was_ personal. But did he think that was all it would take for her to _join him?_

_Who do you think I am? Allying myself with the most loathed criminal in the city?_

_“You and I share the same goal. Find the leader and destroy him.”_

But he didn’t lie. She had a gun to his head, but she was pretty sure that had nothing to do with the truths he expounded to her that night. 

The newspaper wrinkled into her fist as Lauren turned to the wall. 

_No one’s ever seen him and lived to tell the tale. Except…_

She pulled back the curtain, revealing the chaotic pinboard beneath.

_I just did…_

Her eyes went once again to the headlines. " _Allendale Train Station Tragedy."_

_Ever since that day, I’ve wanted to take down the monsters responsible for his death. They took the person I cherished most from me._

Her eyes skirted up to the picture in the center. The eyes of the little boy stared back at her.

_I wanted to avenge him. And I… wanted to spare others the same fate. My own search led me nowhere for ten years._

The unsolved case files on the floor screamed up at her.

_And now… this assassin proposes he’ll help me…_

Tempting...it was so tempting. Those blue eyes reappeared before her.

_“I would be your best asset.”_

Or her worst mistake. This quest almost destroyed her once before. Lauren gritted her teeth and threw the newspaper across the room. She gripped the curtains framing the pinboard, squeezing them until she could feel her fingernails poking through the fabric into her palms. 

“You should really let go, Lauren,” she told herself. As if to cement that advice, she quickly pulled the curtains back over the pinboard. 

_“Meet me at the bridge tomorrow night.”_

Lauren sucked in a deep breath. She’d crossed lines before, but she wouldn’t again. All she needed to do was invoke the imagery from the crime scenes, remember the history of this man who’s ledger ran red with blood. 

“I won’t have anything to do with him,” Lauren decided aloud. “It’s long over.”


	8. Burning Burden

The sun was shining bright over clear skies the following morning, despite the chill in the air. Light brushed over the white pillars of Ardhalis Police Department, melting the frost on the roof and making the marble of the front steps gleam. Lauren took a deep breath of the chilly air and pulled her jacket tighter around her shoulders as she pushed open the large double doors of the front entrance. 

Her masked eyes glanced over the APD crest, a white mask against a shield and a crossed pair of swords, stamped over every doorway or high-profile surface in the building. 

There wasn’t anyone in the front vestibule of the building, save for the half-awake security guard hiding behind a stack of paperwork at the front desk. Lauren flashed her badge and pushed past the barrier towards the precinct office.

Noisy chatter leaked out into the hallways, testament to the number of people already at work. Lauren bit her lip. The days where she was the first in the office were long gone, along with her rank of detective. Now most of her investigative work was done behind that desk in her study at home. 

She pulled off her mask and stepped into the patrol office. The 11th Precinct was larger than the others in size and personnel. Echoes of typewriters, shuffled paper, and ringing telephones mingled with the steady hum of conversation. It looked like Lauren was the last one there.

“Good morning, everyone,” Lauren said casually as she slipped off her jacket. 

“Hello, Officer Sinclair!” Her greeting was returned automatically by the perky little female at the first desk. 

_ Lila Desroses.  _ Office secretary. Sweet as sugar and adorable in every sense of the word. The human embodiment of a cupcake.

Appearance: Short strawberry blond hair with thinly framed round glasses balanced daintily on a tiny nose. Automatic sincere smile. Dimbles. Always outfitted with a white blouse and flared skirts of rotating pastel colors.

Occupation: Office secretary and sunbeam factory.

Criminal record: As if, but she  _ is _ unfortunately oblivious to all forms of sarcasm.

Lauren glanced around and her eyes rested on the darkest presence in the room. She waved cheerfully and was rewarded with a glare and resounding grunt. 

_ Officer Lukas Randall.  _ Allergic to mornings and positivity. Avoids sunbeams and extroverts. Black coffee runs in his veins.

Appearance: Dark eyes, dark hair, dark eyebrows, dark tie, and dark presence. His curtain hairstyle furthered the shadows across his face. 

Occupation: Precinct “Grumpy Cat.” Foil to both Kym Landall and Lila Desroses.

Criminal record: No murders that have been  _ proven. _ Was suspected of being a vampire but was acquitted after visible vehement avoidance of all human contact. Jaywalking.

Lukas did not look up Lauren, but his scowl deepened as his fingernails drew blood from the splinters of his desktop. “I swear to god, if I have to greet another human being this morning,  _ somebody might die.” _

Lauren nodded. No lies there. Moving on. 

“Lauren!” Kym was working at her desk on the other side of the room, and immediately perked up when she saw Lauren. The hair that framed Kym’s face draped uncombed over her cheeks, and her white collared shirt was rolled up to her elbows. Bags lined her eyes, but she grinned and jumped up despite her lack of sleep. 

“Woe is me! O helpeth me, milady!” Kym declared in a thick accent as she waved her coffee cop wildly in Lauren’s direction. “I don’t know if I can do this anymore! My soul aches from lack of sleep!”

“Shape up and stop whining,” Will ordered, coming up behind her. He looked infinitely more rested and put together than Kym. “Lauren and I slept as much as you did and we’re perfectly fine.”

“Wrong,” Kym immediately contradicted, “Lauren never sleeps.”

Lauren laughed. “Guilty!”

Kym dramatically turned to the open window and stretched her arms in the sunlight. “At least it’s a perfect day for patrolling and running after good-for-nothings!” she exclaimed happily. 

“Patrolling?” Will chuckled. He leaned up against the edge of the desk and gestured to the mound of documents stacked up on Kym’s desk. “What about all your unfinished paperwork?”

Paperwork. The bane of Kym’s existence. She absorbed this information for a brief moment before gasping and grabbing her head in her hands. “Oh no! I have such a  _ terrible _ headache! I feel like I’m going to faint!” 

“Ladell, I didn’t know you had such an  _ obvious _ talent for acting. Have you considered a career change? You might do better there,” Will said dryly.

Kym rolled her eyes. “Oh screw…”

“Sergeant Ladell.”

The radio on Kym’s hip crackled before she could finish telling off Will. She snatched it up quickly. 

“Present.”

“You are requested at the shooting range in forty-five minutes. You’ll be replacing Sergeant Collins, supervising for the firearm examination.”

“Yes sir! I will be there!” Kym winked triumphantly as she slipped her radio back onto her belt loop. “What a shame, Lieutenant. I think my acting career will have to wait. Looks like a certain someone and their awesome skills are still needed here.” She stuck out her tongue to top off the exchange. 

Will glared at her. Kym glared back. 

Lila was walking past carrying a stack of unfinished case files. Will turned and stopped her with a charming smile. 

“Excuse me, Ms. Desroses. Could you please put this pile of paperwork on Ladell’s desk when she comes back? I would  _ really _ appreciate it.”

Lila blushed and her amber eyes sparkled shyly. “W-with pleasure, lieutenant,” she stammered. Kym’s radio cracked in her fist.

Lauren poured herself a cup of coffee and smirked to herself. Will was putting those baby blues to good use. Lukas was walking past and he glared at Kym. “They are completely adorable this morning, aren’t they?” Lauren joked lightly. 

Lukas grunted. “I wish it was illegal to be that energetic. We have a meeting in the briefing room. You better go before I request you three as my next shooting practice targets…after that, you’d be silent  _ forever.” _

Kym, Will, and Lauren just stared. There was way too much sincerity in Lukas’s statement. 

The officers quickly migrated into the briefing room. All chatter abruptly ceased and they all jumped to attention and bowed their heads when the door opened. 

“Greetings, Captain Hermann!”

“Good morning to all,” Captain Hermann responded. “As many of you already know, two high priority citizens were murdered last night, in the 11th precinct.” He stood in front of the podium and glared down at the memo in his hands. “We are dealing with the Purple Hyacinth again.”

There was an audible stir in the room. Lauren felt that pit return to her stomach.

“Thanks to Officer Sinclair, we now know he is male, around 5”9 tall, and 20 to 30 years old. He’s surely gone back into hiding, but nonetheless please report anyone acting suspiciously who matches this description. The castle has already been alerted and we are awaiting more specific directives from the Chief of Police.”

“Yes sir!” the room responded. 

Lauren looked down at her hands. What Hermann listed wasn’t all she could’ve told about the notorious assassin. She could describe his bare face. She knew  _ exactly  _ what he looked like and where he’d be that night. It would be so easy to catch him. What was stopping her?

“Also,” Hermann continued, “by the end of this week, I want volunteers to work security for Viscount Redcliff’s annual ball on February 17th. His majesty’s right hand, Lord Rhysmel, has personally requested our public presence at the event. Many high profile members of the nobility are expected to attend.”

Lauren wasn’t paying attention. Her mind was swirling with possibilities. If she was going to speak up, then now, before patrol, was the time to do it. She would do the right thing. Captain Hermann could have the Purple Hyacinth surrounded at the bridge. The assassin seemed so confident that she’d accept his proposal. He’d be there and so many lives could finally get the justice they deserved...

“If you do decide to volunteer, know that as representatives of the Ardhalis Police Department, your performance there  _ must  _ be impeccable. That is all for today. You are dismissed.”

Lauren stood up with the others, the argument continuing to rage on in her head. The assassin would be stupid to not suspect she wouldn’t come alone. It could be a trap. 

Who was she kidding? Of course it was a trap! He knew about her ability. She couldn’t trust his  _ deal _ for a second. 

“Alright everybody, list up!” Will called. “Those on the next patrol round, follow me. We’ll go through the itinerary for this morning…”

Lauren didn’t hear any of it. Her eyes darted back over to the captain. Hermann was leaving. He was walking out of the door at that second. The captain might hate her, but if it was about the Purple Hyacinth he  _ would _ listen to what she had to say. This was her chance. Lauren jumped up and brushed by Will. It was now or never.

“Excuse me, William. I’ll be back in a few minutes!” she told him quickly. Her eyes zeroed in on where Hermann disappeared, and Kym immediately noticed.

“Lauren,” she began, “You shouldn’t…”

But Lauren was already out the door. Hermann was rounding the corner and she picked up her pace to catch up to him. She didn’t know how to explain last night’s encounter or why she had waited until now to come clean, but she couldn’t let her pride stop her from doing the right thing.

“Captain Hermann!” she called, “I was, um, thinking about De La Rocca’s murder last night and I came up with a few theories that might be useful to the investiga…”

“ _ Officer Sinclair.” _

Blood drained from Lauren’s face as the captain stopped in the hallway. “By the looks of the bags under your eyes, I have no doubt you spent the entire night obsessing over this and concocted many theories. As always, your attention to details and analytical perception on any crime scene is remarkable.  _ However…” _

Lauren’s heart sank as he turned his head and critically took in her tired face and uncombed hair. 

“Must I remind you that there is a  _ reason _ you aren’t on the investigation unit anymore,  _ Officer?” _

Remind her? When did he  _ not _ remind her? Hell, she remembered that moment  _ every day _ . The memory of that grinning perp in front of her, lying to her face in front of all the detectives, always felt fresh in her mind. She’d never felt so enraged, humiliated, and helpless in her whole life.

She remembered the blows and the protests of the other officers as they physically restrained her while she screamed and resisted in a blind rage. 

_ “It’s a lie! He’s lying! _ ”

“But I…” Lauren began. But Hermann wasn’t going to let her get a word in. 

“If you recall any additional details of his appearance, please report them to the  _ detective _ in charge of the case. The investigation unit will follow up on any clues that they think could help us trace the assassin’s plans.”

Lauren nodded. Of course. She was about to turn and do just that, when Hermann took a step forward and leaned down towards her. 

“But truthfully, I would rather  _ you _ didn’t involve yourself in this further.  _ You’ve embarrassed us enough in the past.” _

Lauren’s eyes widened and anger started to bubble up inside. Embarrassed  _ them? _ What was more embarrassing than locking up the wrong person and letting a killer walk free? 

“Captain!” The sweet voice of Ms. Desroses cut through the air. “There’s a call waiting for you in your office!”

Hermann waved at the secretary in response and leaned back with a sigh. “I know that you are exceptionally talented, but you are too personally involved for me to allow you to investigate the Phantom Scythe again. Your thinking and actions would be biased. Perhaps you should consider spending yours nights  _ sleeping _ instead of theorizing, so that you can be ready for your  _ actual  _ duties.” Hermann looked up as the sound of the patrol getting together echoed in the hallway. 

“Speaking of, I believe your division is about to leave for patrol.” Hermann turned and followed Ms. Desroses to his office to take his call. “Have a good day, officer.” 

Lauren watched him go and gritted her teeth. Resentment piled up in waves and she clenched her fists. 

_ After all this time...One mistake is all it takes. _


	9. Challenging Choice

She stood in the empty hall for one minute longer before turning and heading towards the door. Patrol had already started and she needed to catch up. Admittedly, patrol was the last thing on her mind. 

Once outside, Lauren leaned up against one of the white pillars and stared at the ground. 

_It’s been over a year and they still think I’m unfit for duty._ But was there a _they_ or was it only Hermann? Who else controlled her rank and promotions? It all had to go across the captain’s desk at some point. Had he ever blocked her advancement. There wasn’t anyway to know for sure.

A shadow suddenly blocked the sunlight and Lauren looked up into the smiling face of Kym Ladell.

“Aye, Lauren!” Kym exclaimed as she tipped her hat in greeting. 

Just as before, Kym couldn’t have had better timing. Lauren immediately brushed the brooding from her face.

“Kym!”

“Hermann’s being a jerk to you again, huh?” Kym asked. The question wasn’t meant to prod or joke. As lighthearted as Kym came off to most people, Lauren knew there wasn’t anyone more perceptive and caring than her blue-haired chaotic sergeant. 

Will had a big heart, but Kym’s was arguably larger.

“Don’t worry, nothing happened,” Lauren said casually with a smile. Kym made a face and narrowed her eyes.

“You know that I don’t need your weird ‘ability’ to know you’re lying, right?”

Lauren laughed awkwardly and looked away. “Well...the captain thought it opportune to remind me of my mistake again today.”

“Bah!” Kym scoffed, “I don’t understand why they’re being so rough on you. It’s not like you’re the first person in this department to ever screw up. Yet, Herman’’s singling you out like he never has anyone else.”

“I suppose I gave him a good reason to,” Lauren admitted. 

“Then why isn’t your uncle helping you? He’s the _chief of the police!_ This has gone on long enough!” Kym exclaimed.

“Come on, Kym. I can’t take advantage of Uncle Tristan’s position. I didn’t need his help to become a detective and I won’t use it to get my rank back either. I’d rather end up on the streets than do that.”

Kym smiled. “I know you would.” She shrugged. “It’s their loss anyway.”

“Thanks Kym,” Lauren said as she stepped away from the pillar and turned back to the street. She had some running to do if she was going to catch up to Will and the others. “See you later! Try not to terrorize the poor sods in the shooting exam!”

“Pssh, terrorize?” Kym laughed as she waved goodbye, “I don’t even know what that word means. See ya, Lauren!”

Lauren pulled on her jacket as she headed down the street. Kym was right. Uncle Tristan would put in a good word, but he knew better than to offer his help. Besides, hadn’t she accepted whatever consequences of the job long ago, back when she made her oath.

_“As a servant to the citizens and royal house of Ardhalis, I vow to uphold and enforce any and all areas of the law. In the exercise of our duties, I leave behind the personal, the political, the subjective, to maintain peace and order impartially.”_

_Impartially._ Hermann didn’t think she could be objective anymore. Was he right? Lauren reached for her mask and slipped it over her face, hiding those _pensive_ eyes from view. 

“ _With this mask, not only do I protect my identity, but willingly subsume it to the office I serve to become a symbol for the people. Not an individual, but a part of the entity of law. With this oath, I vow that all my future actions will both uphold and represent the Ardhalis Police Department. ”_

It was true, once she made the mistake of forgetting the mask, and let her personal resentment guide her actions. It cost her her rank of detective, her self-respect, and her credibility. She had to regain those last two things before she restored the first. And even after going through all that, she still didn’t find answers. 

Lauren spotted the others and quickly mingled in with the patrol group as they headed towards the center of town. There was an unusually large group gathered by the local newsstands, and Lauren quickly picked out bits of conversation.

“Did you hear? The Purple Hyacinth struck again last night!”

“Yes, how horrible! Poor Lady Grayson!”

Last night’s murders were already all over the papers, and it was kicking up quite the stir amongst citizens. The finer details were not included in the reports, but that didn’t stop people from speculating or concocting their own theories.

“Rumors are spreading like wildfire…” Lukas muttered. 

Rumors were harmless and unavoidable, as long as they didn’t grow beyond chatter in the marketplace of conversations at the pubs, but Lauren still felt a little uneasy. She was busy eavesdropping on conversations, and ran straight into Will’s back.

Will just smiled and looked down at her. “Your pretty golden eyes look _pensive_ today, dear Lauren.” 

Kym had spilled to Will. She was going to kill her sergeant. 

“I swear I’ll hit the next person who says ‘pensive,’ ‘eyes,’ and ‘Lauren’ in the same sentence,” Lauren muttered with a shiver. 

“There is no escape!” Will laughed, “Your disastrous dates are too iconic to be forgotten. Kym told me all about it.”

Lauren glowered. _Of course she did._

“May I ask what’s on your mind?” Will asked, changing gears quickly. 

First Kym and now Will, did she have a “I’m miserable, implore on the status of my well-being” sign on her back?

“Hm?” Lauren asked, trying to sound nonchalant. 

“You’ve barely uttered a word since we left headquarters. You look like you’re plotting a murder.” Will clarified. “Be careful, Grumpy Cat might get jealous.” He pointed over his shoulder at the brooding officer in question.

“I can hear you, Hawkes,” Lukas growled.

“There’s nothing to worry about, Will, really,” Lauren insisted. “I’m just a bit tired. I didn’t chug two liters of coffee like you did this morning..” Lauren trailed off.

A young man was standing atop the statue in the center of the town square and was slowly gathering a crowd. 

“Hear me out!” he shouted as he waved his jacket in the air. “It’s already been ten years since the Allendale tragedy! The police still haven’t found anything! _Anything!”_

Lauren glanced around. The crowd was growing steadily and ever so often she heard small remarks about last night’s murders. The uneasiness of the citizens was building steadily.

“You can count on your fingers the number of active Phantom Scythe members they’ve neutralized! And last night, the Purple Hyacinth reappeared!”

The crowd started to cheer in agreement. Lauren coasted over the scared faces of the people she’d sword to protect...and her eyes came to rest on a certain dark-haired stranger who stood attentively in the crowd.

He looked familiar.

“Is this really the ‘protection’ our city deserves?!” the man shouted to the crowd.

“He’s right!”

“We deserve better!”

“That’s right!”

Lauren didn’t hear any of it. She couldn’t pull her eyes off the stranger. He turned his head and her eyes were immediately locked onto his. _Blue eyes. Ones she would never forget._

Blood drained from her face as her heartbeat doubled. She had to be mistaken. There was no way he’d be so bold. He was standing less than twenty feet away from her in the crowd and a flicker of recognition passed over his features. 

Strangely enough, he made no move to leave. His lips slowly curled into that same infuriating smile. There was no doubt in her mind.

_It was him._


	10. Unexpected Uprising

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you want to invade hell, you might have to get the keys from the devil himself. 

The hum of the crowd began to grow as the man continued his speech atop the statue in the center square. People started to push against each other as more tuned in to listen. Lauren barely registered the increased noise around her. Her eyes remained locked on the man across from her. 

He wasn’t paying attention to the crowd either, and his eyes never pulled away from hers. Ironically, he was the subject of the current speech. 

“In one single night, the Purple Hyacinth took two victims right across the street from each other! And the police _still_ couldn’t catch him! Two valued and respected citizens! Who will it be next? Your wives? Your children?”

The setting was too perfect. The air was too crisp. People's nerves were unsteady from the rumors of last night, and fear is one thing that can always seize power easily. The charge in the air sent ripples of electricity down the skin and made the hair stand up on end. 

Will darted his eyes around the square, quickly taking a mental note of the location of all his officers. This situation could get out of hand quickly. Everyone was behind him, eyes locked on the young man giving the passionate cries. Everyone except Lauren… She was staring off to the right.

If there was anyone he trusted to pick out a threat first, it was Lauren. Will didn’t get a chance to ask her as the young man pointed an accusing finger at the group of officers. 

“The police are supposed to protect you, but they’re just parading like peacocks in the streets! They could be arresting the culprits responsible for these atrocities! Instead, this Purple Hyacinth monster is still running free! They’ve been chasing the leader, one man, for a decade and they don’t have even a single clue who he is!”

“How can we trust them?” one man bellowed.

“For shame!”

“For all we know, some of them might be working for the Phantom Scythe!”

Lauren was in a daze. The assassin looked so...different from the night before. So normal. Like any other person in that market. Collared shirt, black tie, red vest, long black trench coat...and no sign of blood anywhere. It was unsettling. 

“Aren’t you tired of being afraid to leave your homes? Of wondering if your neighbor will be the next victim?”

Lauren snapped herself out of her trance and quickly looked over her shoulder towards Will. All she had to do was shout… Tell Will she recognized him from the other night. 

If they stopped him, this guilt could stop plaguing her thoughts, and she could finally let go of this temptation that kept creeping back into her brain. The thought that she had even considered the arrangement put a pit in her stomach. As if she could be that desperate. 

“This killing machine could be anywhere, creeping up behind your back to slit your throat! How many more deaths before this bloody abomination is arrested?”

 _He’s right._ The speaker in the square could never know how close to the truth he actually was. Lauren looked back at the man in question. He’d never taken his eyes off her. The smile remained etched across his face. This could be their only chance.

She gritted her teeth, and as her lips parted she saw him clearly mouth three words to her.

_“I dare you.”_

She opened her mouth. “H-”

“He could be anywhere! Anyone!” A young girl screamed behind her, and Lauren jumped. “Disguised as one of us innocent citizens!”

“She’s right, everyone is a suspect! You! I saw you leaving your house last night around one in the morning! Where were you going, huh?”

The citizens started pointing viscous fingers at each other as the volume in the square quickly doubled. Accusations flew back and forth as chaos began to take form. People walked into Lauren’s line of sight and her heart dropped down into her stomach.

_She was losing her chance._

She spun around, trying to see through the crowd. Someone threw a punch, and the scene turned violent. From his view atop the statue, the young man looked on as a pleased smirk pulled at the edge of his lips. A group of police cruisers pulled up to the scene. The objective was achieved. 

“Come on, team! Move!” Will ordered.

Lauren pulled her eyes off the crowd. There was a job to do, and she still wore the white mask over her eyes.

_I’m not a detective. I am an officer._

Will quickly ran towards the brawling citizens, and she knew she had to follow. It was a direct order. 

Will grabbed the instigator of the fight and Lauren managed to pin back the arms of his opponent. 

“Get off me, bastard!” the man screamed. He shoved an elbow back and it made sharp contact with Lauren’s chin. She grunted, barely able to hold on to the man’s jacket. So preoccupied was she that she didn’t hear the rumble of the car motors, didn’t hear the stir in the crowd, until a familiar authoritative figure carved a way through the crowd. 

She immediately knew who it was even before he turned around. 

“ORDER!” The voice ricocheted throughout the square and well over any and all noise of the crowd. The crowd didn’t hush completely, but a distinct lull in the shouting was proof enough that the citizens respected the owner of that voice.

Chief Tristan Sinclair positioned himself in front of the statue where the instigator of the incident still perched above the crowd. 

“Ladies, gentlemen, please! I see that you are worried, and I understand your dissatisfaction. As you said, sir, this criminal organization has been allowed to run free for too long.” Chief Tristan looked up at the young man who was starting to climb down from the statue.

Lauren looked on in awe. Her uncle’s voice was strong and confident, and instantly calmed the fear of the crowd. 

“I promise you,” the chief continued, “You are _not_ the only ones feeling frustrated! Each one of us here has a family to protect! All of us, officer and civilian, want to purge this evil that has tarnished our city! And as chief of police, I _personally_ assure you, we prize your well-being and _your_ safety above all else!”

The square was incredibly quiet now. Fists that were balled up just a minute before now relaxed as the cloud of suspicion slowly faded from the eyes of the townspeople. 

“The chief?”

“Maybe he’s right…”

Lauren smiled as the man she was restraining relaxed in her grip. Uncle _did_ always have a way with words. He was always there to save the day...ever since she could remember. His words of hope for the future were hard to process, however, especially while the Phantom Scythe’s bloodiest assassin stood a part of the crowd, just enjoying the show. Ironic didn’t cover it.

“This morning the king’s right hand, Sir Rhysmel, came to speak with me to establish a plan of action. Steps will be taken, and we will release our plans to the public as soon as possible! But fellow citizens, if we _truly_ want to rid ourselves of the Phantom Scythe, we must unite our forces and give way to such discord between us!””

The words went in one ear and out the other as Lauren quickly panned the crowd, looking for that pair of blue eyes that were forever burned in her memory. She didn’t see him. Of course he wouldn’t be dumb enough to stick around after she spotted him. He stayed long enough to antagonize her, then made himself scarce. 

The man who had started the whole incident gestured towards the police chief. “ ** _He’s right! None of us here is part of that filthy organization!_** We must not stoop to their level!” 

Lauren’s eyes widened. There was no probable way he could have known the Purple Hyacinth was standing in their midst. That could only mean…

“Yes, and we must all stand together!” Chief Tristan agreed, apparently oblivious to the true nature of the situation, “Otherwise, we are no better than those worthless criminals! Remember, we are here to protect you and we are listening! Make sure to report any information you think could be useful to the police. Now, please disperse and go about your business. Thank you.”

The man at the statue grinned. “ ** _Of course, I’m at your service, sir. Thank you._** ”

A pit descended in Lauren’s stomach. (There was quite a pile of similar pits stacking up there at the moment.) The instigator crawled off the statue and made to disappear into the crowd. Convinced she wouldn’t be able to track down the Purple Hyacinth in the crowd, Lauren decided to seize the chance to nab a _different_ Purple Hyacinth member. 

“Are you pressing charges?” Lauren quickly asked the man who had been on the receiving end of the first punch. 

“N-no. I’m fine,” the man stuttered. Lauren released him without ceremony and made a beeline for her uncle. 

“Sir!”

As the crowd started to disperse, Will made his way over to the chief and bowed respectfully. 

“Thank you so much, sir! You just defused a riot. We’re the only patrol unit on scene. I don’t know what…” Will began.

“It’s my job, Lieutenant Hawkes. We’re here to maintain peace. We should never answer with violence unless absolutely unavoidable.” Chief Sinclair interrupted. He smiled at Will. “But you said your unit was here! Have you seen my niece?”

Lauren only caught the word 'niece’ as she ran up, but she was in no mood for a friendly chat. Already, the man in question was getting further away by the second. 

“Uncle! That man! We can’t let him go, we must interrogate him!” 

“Lauren!” Chief Sinclaire said with a barely concealed chuckle as he removed his mask. His niece’s passion was something he admired, but it’d be nice if she could relax _just a little bit._ “How lovely to see you.” He smiled at her before quickly putting the mask back on. “Now, why do you say that?”

“He almost started a riot!” Lauren explained, as if it was obvious. “You can’t let him off the hook that easily!” And Hermann had been talking about _embarrassing the department_ earlier. What they all didn’t know was that the Phantom Scythe had basically just laughed in all their faces. But she was the only one who knew. She was _always_ the only one who knew.

Will frowned, and Lauren braced herself for what she knew was coming. 

“The trust the people have in us is getting more fragile each day. We must show them that we are on their side,” Will reasoned, “Arresting someone like him right now would be like throwing oil on the fire.”

Lauren turned to her uncle, but Tristan was already smiling at her with that infuriating look that meant “calm down, sweety. You’re getting all riled up again.” He never meant it unkindly, and Lauren knew it, but it didn’t make this situation any easier.

“I am afraid that Lieutenant Hawkes is right,” he agreed. Lauren didn’t have time to prove her _‘gut feeling’_ right now. If they could only get that man into an interrogation room...pin him for jaywalking, anything!

“Uncle, I’m aware that it’s a delicate situation, but, what if this speech was a distraction? To draw attention from something else…” Her mind scrambled to think of a better explanation. “L-like involvement with the Phantom Scythe?” But the passion had already died out of her voice, giving way to unease. The explanation wasn’t enough. It never was. Lauren bit her lip as the cold wind blew her hair back over her shoulders.

Her uncle laughed, and she knew it was meant to relax her, but it just made her feel worse. “We can’t arrest people without due cause, you know that! We could keep him in a forty-eight-hour hold, but that would just anger the people more than anything else.”

“He lied earlier, I _know_ it. He’s…” She was grasping at straws now.

“ ** _Lauren, I know you must be right._** But now is not the time and you know better than anyone that to open an investigation we must have solid proof,” her uncle explained as he squeezed her shoulder gently. “Your hunches can’t overrule the law. Remember?”

 _Remember?_ Of course she remembered. This day had been nothing but people reminding her of the fact. 

“I...understand. You’re right,” she relented. 

“I’m very sorry, Lauren. I do believe in you, but all we can do is keep an eye out for him in case of future disturbances.” Uncle Tristan turned to go. The crisis was over and he was a busy man. “Please excuse me, I have a meeting to attend. See you tonight, Lauren! Have a good day officers!”

The other officers saluted as Tristan made his way back to his cruiser. 

“See you tonight, Uncle.” She hated this. She hated that look of sympathy on Will’s face. She hated how her uncle lovingly _humored her._ She _hated_ how she had to let criminals slip through her fingers _again and again,_ all because she could hear the lies...and others wouldn’t hear her.

All those years she spent refining her analytical skills, just to _prove_ her “hunches” to others, meant squat. But that was how the world went round, so she worked her butt off and made detective, joined the investigation unit so that she could _finally_ put her ability to use and make a _difference._

But what was it all for?

Everything was undone by a single mistake. 

Lauren clenched her fists, feeling completely useless. The rioters were right - the police _were_ powerless. The Phantom Scythe’s members walked the city freely, and even the Purple Hyacinth could walk around confidently just because no one could identify him!

The cops were scared of the Phantom Scythe, there was no way around that fact. And no matter how fiercely she and her fellow officers fought, they were always one step ahead. 

And why?

Because they had to play by the rules. They had to stay squeaky clean. A victim be damned as long as the officers had nice clean shirts at the end of the day. Was that kind of clean record really worth it? Worth all the lives? 

Was there a difference between the _right thing_ and the _lawful thing_? 

Lauren gritted her teeth as the truth hit her square between the eyes.

_We are ridiculous._

The Purple Hyacinth belonged behind bars, and that’s exactly where she should send him. But last night he was honest with her, even when he had a sword pointed at her throat. The scariest thing about the whole situation was, he might be right. 

He could be her only chance of finding the leader. No one else was going to help her. 

_That was the truth._

This was the logic that brought her feet to the bridge that night. The tower clock strung twelve and its cry echoed throughout the city and over the surface of the river. Lauren stood at the railing as the wind whipped her hair about her cheeks.

Her eyes skirted over the top of the choppy water, but she wasn’t seeing the scenery before her. 

_Brown cap. Grey innocent eyes. Hair so blond it was almost white, and a smile that stretched from ear to ear._

This might be the dumbest thing she’d ever done in her life, but even when all else failed, she owed it to _him_ to try. 

The echo of footsteps rang in her ears far louder than they should have, and she turned to meet the blue eyes of a man she had already decided to despise. He was wearing the same clothes from earlier. It was all the same, even up to that infuriating smirk on his face. 

Irony was a common theme for her story, and this moment was the peak of that.

After all, if you want to invade hell, you might have to get the keys from the devil himself. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, I have not proofread at all. I had to go grocery shopping.


	11. Dreadful Deal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sharp yellow stared up into crystal blue, nose and lips just inches apart. 
> 
> He was smirking. She was not. 
> 
> “So it begins.”

“Well, well, well… what do we have here? Seems like someone changed her mind about my proposal!”

He was gloating. Of course he was.

Lauren took a small breath as her hand closed around the gun hidden from view by her coat. She had considered the possibility that this meeting could go awry and she might once again find herself on the other end of a sword. Speaking of which, he’d definitely brought his silver-edged assassin with him. It was mostly hidden by his cloak, but she could make out the shape of it as he walked towards her.

She forced herself to look him in the eye and didn’t react to his flamboyant greeting. He seemed impressed by her unaffected expression and his voice dropped a timbre as he antagonized her further.

“The good little cop decided to make a deal with a devil. You were so hellbent against it, what changed?”

He took another step forward, one step closer than she was comfortable with. Lauren pulled the gun out of its holster and pointed it directly at him, aimed for between the eyes. He did not react, but he didn’t move to walk closer either.

The wind snapped and cursed over the surface of the bridge and Lauren steadied her finger on the trigger. She wouldn’t shake, not even for the cold. 

“You’re the Purple Hyacinth, aren’t you? The most dreaded criminal in the city.” Thank the powers that be; her voice didn’t crack. The gun clicked as she pulled the hammer back. “You forgot to mention that during our chat last night.”

He did not look as unnerved to have a gun pointed at his head as she would have liked. He held up his hands slowly and took one more slow step forward until her gun nearly rested on the tip of his nose. 

“I figured it would be obvious after you saw the crime scene,” he said casually, not riled in the least. 

It was starting to feel like the night before all over again. Him, completely calm; her, on the edge of her seat and unaware of the rules of this game she decided to play. 

“And yet you still thought I’d be crazy enough to make a deal with the Purple Hyacinth?” The question fell from her lips before she could stop it. Forget the idea that he _thought_ she was crazy. She evidently was, seeing how she was standing on the bridge with him right now.

The assassin seemed to disagree. “Well, not _crazy,_ just extremely desperate, which you definitely ar…”

“I’m not desperate!” Lauren nearly shouted as she leaned forward reflexively. The assassin chuckled. 

“No, you’ve just been stuck spinning your wheels in a dead-end investigation for years.” His hands were still raised but he spun his fingers in a loop to demonstrate the fact of her position. “That’s exactly what the Phantom Scythe is spending its time and resources on, you know: making sure that the APD never gets past those dead-ends.”

Lauren narrowed her eyes. _This._ This was why she was standing on the bridge: because he was right.

“Look,” she began. The strong defensive tone finally slipped a little. He noticed. “I came here tonight because… I know you’ve been honest with me. I don’t understand why or how it’s possible, but you and I seem to have the same goal.” She hesitated and he lowered his arms, but still made no move towards his sword. “Actually, there’s a lot I don’t understand about you.”

“I’ve got my mysterious killer reputation to uphold. It would’ve been a waste if I revealed everything about myself on the first night.” The flirty undertone was back in his voice. Lauren ignored it.

“Why didn’t you kill me?” There it was, the question that had been at the forefront ever since she watched him disappear into the darkness of the alley last night. 

He laughed. “My, my, did you hit your head that hard? I already told you. I need a _pet,_ someone in the police department to help me put my plans in motion.”

“But why _me?_ ” Lauren pressed, “Why would you trust me? You know nothing about me.”

His hand was closed around the barrel of her gun before she could register that he had even moved. He simultaneously stepped closer to her as he pushed the gun out of his face. 

“True,” he agreed, “But you’re straight-laced enough to put weight in your word, and crooked enough to take mine at face value.”

And he got all of that by watching her at the café? As if he could read her mind, his hand gripped the gun tighter and abruptly jerked her forward and still closer. It was the same move she had used on pathetic Mr. Evans. He was tall, and towered over her.

“And I do know you and I share the same... _vengeful_ desires,” he added in that same low tone from before. “Plus, you seem to have a knack for guessing when someone is lying. Makes you useful.”

Lauren blinked, surprisingly unperturbed by the sudden change of her position and his closer proximity. His little speech, which contained no lies except for ones of omission, convinced her of his situation. He had no intention of killing her. 

It just didn’t make sense. Even if she _was_ as useful as he believed her to be, why would he risk it?

“But I _saw your face,”_ she repeated, “How could you be so certain I wouldn’t bring the whole police squad here tonight?”

She’d almost outed him earlier, and he knew that. He watched her closely. He knew she was conflicted. 

“Darling, you’re not the only one to have seen it,” he explained as he released her. He casually hopped up on the bridge railing and balanced on one foot, as if he was recounting a humorous story to a friend. Lauren’s hand fell back to her side, limply still holding the gun. 

“I waltz around in broad daylight with this face, and yet, miraculously, no one runs away screaming.” He threw out his arms for balance and proceeded to tightrope walk his way down the railing towards Lauren. 

The wind was still blowing and the river rushed below them. He was both cocky and stupid. One wrong move and he was in for a cold swim. His behavior, however, did wonders to relax Lauren. She still couldn’t let go of the impossibility of this situation. His explanations, truthful as they were, left suspiciously gaping holes in his logic.

“But still, why trust me?” Lauren asked again. 

“Someone as obsessed with the truth as you are wouldn’t walk away from a chance like this,” he explained, “If you turned me in, you wouldn’t get anything out of me, and you know it. Help me and we both get what we want.” He spun on his heel and started walking the railing going the opposite way.

“What exactly are you?” Lauren asked. Her guard was still up, but the fact that this assassin was dancing on the handrailing like a kid disarmed her. “You’re the leader’s favorite puppet. You obey his every word.”

“Aw, please,” he scoffed, moving to balance on one leg. “That’s insulting! I’m his best assassin, not his puppet.”

“Yet you want to kill him? It doesn’t make any sense!” Lauren insisted. 

He jumped over to one of the bridge pillars and swung himself around one of the gas lamp poles with one hand. The wind caught his trench coat and blew it open, fully revealing the sword attached to his waist. 

“A handsome paradox, am I not?” he asked charmingly. 

“Seriously, why?” Lauren asked, not willing to participate in any form of banter, “Why follow him at all if you want to stop him so bad?” 

It was a dangerous game, playing twenty questions with a killer. But questions meant answers, and answers always told her something, whether they were honest replies or not. The handsome paradox in question abruptly stopped swinging on the pole. For the first time since he walked up, the smile faded from his face. 

“You know, officer,” he said after a brief pause, “It’s not all rainbows and unicorns in the Phantom Scythe.” He jumped down from his perch. Any hint of joking or flirtation washed from his voice so abruptly that it was jarring.

“It’s like any organization. No one agrees on anything, there’s a healthy amount of back-stabbing, but so far none of it has touched the top. The leader might not be venerated by everyone, but he’s certainly feared by all.” His eyes could have seared cracks through the brick of the bridge. His jaw hardened as his expression changed to one that Lauren didn’t have any trouble reading.

Hatred. Hatred in its purest form. The kind that didn’t need words to explain or define. 

“His pawns are everywhere. No one knows who he is, but killing for him, doing his dirty work and being the best at it, _that’s_ the only way to get closer to him. The only way to stop him.”

“It still doesn’t explain why you want to,” Lauren said. The motive behind the intentions could tell her a lot about him. However, she wouldn’t learn that detail. Not tonight.

“And this questions shall go unanswered, I’m afraid. My motives are not relevant and I don’t care about yours. Suffice to say, I have as many reasons as you do to want him gone. I only care about making that happen, and I need you to do it.” He looked back up at her again. 

If she found his charm and arrogance unsettling, this was much worse. The words themselves put her at ease. He definitely wanted the leader gone. The tone he used, however, was cold and distinctly different, no matter how subtle the change. _Now_ he sounded like a killer.

“Do you accept this deal or not?”

If she said yes, she was in league with a killer. If she said no… she probably wouldn’t leave this bridge alive. She would need to tread carefully.

“Suppose I do, what are the conditions? What do you expect from me?”

The smile returned to his lips along with the warmth to his voice, and he turned dramatically with a wave of his hand. “Oh, you know, I like to keep things simple. There’d only be two rules.”

Her eyes were drawn to the sword at his side as his jacket was pushed to the side, intentionally displaying the weapon. As if he was aware where her attention was, he looked over his shoulder and forced her to make eye contact.

“First, no with-holding information. Anything you know, I know, and vice versa. Same goes for new discoveries, or else we’ll end up dead. Second,” and here he winked at her. “No personal questions, to keep rule one from getting out of hand.”

“That’s it?” Lauren asked, the disbelief clear in her voice. He turned and nodded in affirmation.

“Short and sweet.” His eyes fell on the gun still gripped in her right hand. “Oh! I almost forgot. Third rule. No 'accidentally' killing each other,” he said as he held up his fingers in quotation marks. “How does that sound, officer?”

He smiled, but Lauren just shook her head. “Not good enough. I have my own conditions as well.”

“Go on?”

“I don’t want to be mixed up in any of your shady and illegal Phantom Scythe business. Investigation related only, or count me out.” Her voice didn’t leave any room for debate.

“So the good cop wants to stay a good cop,” he chuckled, “Even after teaming up with the Purple Hyacinth himself? Sure, no problem.”

Lauren rolled her eyes. Humility was something this man did not possess, apparently. “As for you,” she continued, “I don’t want you in my life outside of this. I don’t want people I care about involved, _ever._ What we do together stays between us. Understood?”

“O-oh, officer! How scandalous!” he exclaimed, “But sure…” 

“That’s not…” Lauren groaned as she looked up in exasperation. Of course she hadn’t meant an innuendo. Somehow, he managed to pull her into the mood of the whole exchange, and she didn’t want that. 

“Listen, if I get one inkling that you’re trying to hide things from me, or if _anyone_ close to me so much as sneezes because of you…” She raised the gun again to hammer the point home. “I will not hesitate to put a bullet right through your skull and -”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” he replied coolly as his hand shot to stop her from raising the gun again. “It’s always headshots with you.” He pushed her arm holding the gun to the side and she relented. “Your threats begin to lack creativity, _officer_. You really do have an obsession with murder, don’t you?” He smiled and leaned towards her again. 

“But it’s okay, I forgive you. We all have our weak points.”

Lauren rolled her eyes again. This man was impossible. 

“How can I be sure you won’t betray me?” she asked. 

He groaned and threw his head back. Here he was, trying to flirt, and she still wanted to be all business. “Endless, endless, questions. Look, if you and I are going to be partners in crime, we’ll have to trust each other.”

A good point, but not an easy pill to swallow. Lauren scowled at the mere thought. He pointed at himself and at her. “If you go down, I go down too, and so on and so forth. It’s been like that from the moment you let me walk away.”

 _Aha, so he admits it. I_ **_let_ ** _him get away._ It was a small acknowledgement, though probably not intentional on his part. He saw her as formidable, and that was enough for Lauren.

“It’s going to be a game of faith for both of us,” he continued. “We’re on equal footing. If things get nasty, you have your guns and I have my sword.” He gestured to the trusty blade at his side. “So the only question that remains is: _do we have a deal?"_

Lauren looked down at the ground for a moment. There wasn't any more time to think this through.

_He’s not lying. He didn’t lie once._

She looked back up. 

“Yes.”

He beamed and through his arms open enthusiastically. “Fantastic! Welcome to the team! Nice to meet you, officer. My name is Kieran White.”

 _His real name? He told me his real name?_

“Lauren Sinclair.”

“It’s been a pleasure, Lauren.” _That wasn’t a lie._

There was a sliding metallic sound as he pulled the sword from its sheath. Lauren’s eyes widened and she jumped back, caught completely off guard. She raised her gun just as he lifted the sword and slid it quickly against his palm. 

The familiar view of blood dripping down the edge of the sword sent her back to reality. She filed the image back into her memory as a reminder of who she was dealing with. No matter how honest he was with her or how smooth he spoke, he was a killer.

“What’s wrong?” he asked as he lifted up his bloodied hand towards her. He held the sword out to her. “Come on, your turn.”

Lauren grimaced, immediately repulsed. “Eww, no. You’ve murdered dozens of people with this sword.”

“What kind of _barbarian_ do you think I am?” he asked, sounding legitimately offended. “I clean it nightly. The blade would rust otherwise, and _that_ would be extremely regrettable.”

Lauren rolled her eyes for the third time that night. _Charming._ She sighed and reached down into her right boot, pulling her own blade out. This would be the second bandage she would need in two nights. Hopefully that wouldn’t become a regular thing.

The blade cut easily across her palm. Kieran watched her face closely, impressed when she didn’t wince. 

“We have a deal.” She held out her cut hand and he grabbed it, their blood mingling together as the red drops seeped from between the cracks of their fingers. 

Kieran grinned and yanked on her hand again, pulling her close in a show of intimidation. Once again, she didn’t flinch as she looked up at him. Sharp yellow stared up into crystal blue, nose and lips just inches apart. 

He was smirking. She was not. 

“So it begins.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Runs to find a dictionary and look up "venerated"


	12. Hidden Home

First thing Lauren learned about Kieran White: he had a flair for the dramatic. She should have already guessed that by his criminal record, but now she realized it was just as much a personality trait as it was part of his crime scenes. 

Long, high-collared trench coat? Check. Wavy long locks? Check. An abundance of v-necked shirts that hung too low on his chest to be practical? A sword? Flowers? Agreements sealed by a blood handshake? Ominous narration like " _so it begins?"_ Check, check, and check.

At least he’d given her a bandage after their rather unsanitary handshake. 

And now she was racing after him on the rooftops in lieu of taking the street. Why were they taking this infinitely more difficult route?

_“Come now, officer. I told you I can’t reveal all my secrets at once. Where’s the fun?”_

Cue Lauren’s fourth eye roll of the night. But regardless, she followed him when he suggested they leave the bridge. Curiosity expunged any hesitance or fear that remained. They’d made a deal, and she was in. No going back, as he reminded her. 

Ever so often, Kieran looked over his shoulder to make sure she was keeping up. She was.

“Where are you taking me?” Lauren finally asked, blind faith only lasting so far. 

“Somewhere we won’t be overheard,” was the quick reply. 

“My, my,” Lauren exclaimed as she jumped and landed beside him on the next rooftop. “Who’s the scandalous one now?”

Kieran laughed and Lauren found herself relaxing further. His attitude was contagious. 

Once they reached the edge of town, Kieran made a beeline for the treeline beyond the town park and outside the city limits. The path out of town was narrow, and this particular route wasn’t used often. Weeds and grass poked through the tire ruts in the worn gravel road. Kieran didn’t follow it for long, and soon took off, heading east into the woods.

Lauren hesitated for just a second before following him into the shadows. His pace picked up as he dodged trees, not following any visible path or trail that she could pick out. It was dark, after all, and she realized retracing her steps without him might be difficult. He slowed for a second and looked over his shoulder to check on her again.

“You okay there?”

“Yeah!” Lauren ducked under a branch, just narrowly avoiding getting scraped across the face. If her count was accurate, she’d already hit three spider-webs and possibly swallowed two flies. One was definitely in her eye. Blood was already bleeding through the thin bandage wrapped around her palm. She’d need a replacement soon. 

But she was never one to complain. 

The gurgle of water reached her ears just as Kieran disappeared behind some larger oak trees. Lauren panicked for a split second before bursting through into a small clearing. Kieran was standing at the edge of a creek, waiting expectantly for her. A large waterfall cascaded off the rocks that loomed overhead as moonlight reflected off the foaming water. It was quite a picturesque scene. She didn’t even know that there was a creek this far back behind Ardhalis. Apparently, that was the whole point. 

Kieran only gave her a minute to catch her breath before hopping nimbly onto the stones in the creek and making his way up towards the waterfall. Lauren grimaced. It was freezing outside, and she wasn’t too keen on the idea of getting wet. She was just about to voice this opinion when Kieran abruptly disappeared behind the curtain of water.

Intrigued, and not ready to be left alone in the middle of an unfamiliar forest, Lauren followed his footsteps and gingerly hopped from rock to rock in her heels. Her choice of footwear definitely left something to be desired for this particular outing. To her surprise, she spotted small footholds in the rock heading around the back of the water. The space was narrow, but large enough to allow someone passage without getting too wet.

Lauren carefully climbed up the wet stone while the water roared in her ears. She wasn’t quite sure what she was expecting, but when she turned around the corner of the rock and saw the large mouth of a cave she was speechless. There was a strong draft coming from the interior, and the entire entrance was blocked by the waterfall. 

Kieran was unlocking a metal gate that blocked the entire cavity about twenty feet into the cave. It opened with a loud clack, and he graciously stepped back and gestured to Lauren with a dramatic sweep of his hand.

“After you, officer.”

Up to this point, Lauren had been following _him. His_ back was unguarded and he was trusting _her_ to not put a bullet in his back. She hesitated as the draft from the cave continued to blow her hair and coat back. 

_“If you and I are going to be partners in crime, we’ll have to trust each other.”_

_I’ll have to turn my back to him at some point. Might as well be now._

She stepped through the gate. He followed her and closed it behind them. For a moment, the cave was pitch black, and Lauren dragged her good hand along the side of the rock as she rounded a corner.

The cave was the first surprise. What was inside of it was the second. 

A wave of warmth washed over Lauren’s cold cheeks as she stepped into the main cavity of the cave. It was lit up with a host of candles and gas lamps, illuminating the whole area in a warm glow. Water pooled around the rocks, crystal clear all the way to the bottom. A framed and curtained bed box and small table and chair was set up to the side, a candlestick the only light in that corner. 

The rest of the space was the most stacked personal gym and training setup she’d ever seen in her life. Impressive didn’t even cover it. A large training pad was set up in the center, water surrounding the rock like a little island. Lauren’s eyes coasted over the racks of targets, weights, and collection of knives and swords neatly hung up on the edge of the training pad. 

Based on the number of candles still burning, this is where Kieran must have come from to meet her on the bridge. He brushed past her shoulder while she stood in stunned silence. 

“Home, sweet home!” he exclaimed cheerfully as he pulled off his trenchcoat. 

“I can’t believe you’ve actually led me to the Purple Hyacinth’s lair,” Lauren said in an awed voice. Kieran snorted. 

“Would you stop talking about him as if he’s not me?” he asked as he pulled the black tie from his neck and freed the first few top buttons of his shirt. 

“I’m just…” Lauren began as her eyes darted around the space again.

“Stunned speechless by my incredible taste in home décor?” Keiran guessed as he pulled off his red vest next and hung it on the rack with his coat. He smiled proudly. “Yes, I know.”

Fifth eyeroll.

Kieran grabbed a knife from the rack and threw it at Lauren with a quick flick of his wrist. Lauren’s eyes widened as she quickly leaned back and reflexively grabbed the flying blade by the handle before it could hit the rock wall behind her. 

“What the?” she exclaimed. Was he going to make this a habit of his? What happened to the “no accidentally killing each other” rule?

“Grab a weapon,” Kieran said as pulled another knife off the rack. “Long talks bore the devil out of me, and you and I are in for another one. Might as well test your skills while we’re at it. ” He rolled up his sleeves to his elbows and took his place at the center of the training pad. 

“Do you really need to after last night?” Lauren asked as she pulled off her coat and left it at the edge. “If I remember correctly, I defeated you.”

“Then you should also remember I wasn’t _actually_ trying to kill you,” Kieran pointed out as she took her place across from him. 

Lauren tilted her head and raised an eyebrow. She wasn’t going to argue the exact details or facts of their encounter last night. Given a _verbal_ sparring match, she wasn’t sure who would win. 

“So officer, what do you know about the Phantom Scythe?” Kieran asked as he jumped towards her, knife hand swinging out to the left. 

“Not enough,” Lauren replied as she jumped back and easily dodged his first attack. “They’ve been organized under an anonymous leader for the past decade, though at first it was just him and thirteen ‘apostles.’ They’re the ones who claimed responsibility for Allendale Train Station.”

The image of the body hanging on the burned flagpole as the remains of the station smoldered in the background flashed to the forefront of her mind again. Just a twelve-year-old child at the time, she’d seen the message carved into the skin of the corpse overhead. 

_“The revolution has begun. Phantom Scythe.”_

“After that, they started recruiting more,” Lauren continued as she raced towards him in a counterattack, “I still don’t understand how they got the numbers they did.”

She swung, not caring if the blade met its mark or not. If he was as good as he said he was, he’d block it.

He blocked it.

“You’d be surprised what people will believe when they’re hungry,” Kieran explained. “They said their aim was to create a better world, with a social hierarchy. When you’re not noble-born, that’s pretty appealing.”

Lauren looked up at him, surprised. For a moment, their blades stilled. _"When you're not noble-born..." How_ much did he know about her?

He pulled his arm down and out of her reach. She stepped back as he swung again. 

“These days we’re down to seven apostles, only four of which are the surviving originals. The rest of the first round were either assassinated or killed themselves, and I guess not all of them required replacements.”

Ten years and nine major deaths in the Phantom Scythe. Some of these deaths were planned, some were not. How much could she find if she was able to trace the deaths of these people? The Phantom Scythe had ten years to cover their tracks, and if Kieran couldn’t find anything, it was doubtful she could. 

Lauren was listening intently as her eyes searched for a way to get him off his center, processing the information and hoping to catch him off guard at the same time. 

“How many Phantom Scythe members are there now?” She abruptly dropped to a knee and swung her foot towards his legs. 

“Hundreds. Hard to tell precisely.” He jumped the kick easily, but made no move to tackle her while she knelt briefly on the floor. “Come on, what else? If this is all the APD knows, we’re even worse off than I thought.”

He was taunting her. Not even trying, really. That was frustrating. Lauren leaped up, using the move that managed to get him off his feet the night before.

“The Phantom Scythe’s first public act of terrorism was the Allendale Train Station bombing on November 13th of '17. The city was inaugurating a new railway, financed by the late King Edward. He was killed in the explosion, along with many influential members of the government and the nobility.”

He dodged her kick, but she immediately followed it up with another swing. The memories made the blood rush to her face angrily as she thought about the people, the victims, and the pain of that day. 

“243 deaths.” She swung right with the knife. “328 wounded.” She jumped closer to him, knife raised, emotions bubbling near the surface. “And 176 reported missing.”

 _Missing. Just a hat. I only found his hat._ She could still feel the coarseness of the fabric as she clenched it to her chest, and could remember the feeling of hot tears down her cheeks as ash and smoke filled the air. 

She took a deep breath, and she could almost smell it all over again. Kieran watched as she froze, and he took the opportunity offered to him. 

It all happened with one motion. One hand grabbed the front of her shirt, the other grabbed her injured wrist, slipping her knife out of her hand while he did so. Lauren was caught off guard and all it took was one kick to her legs before she was lying on her back while he pinned her down, the edge of the knife pointed at her throat. 

Lauren just looked up at him blankly. It was the second time they had ended up like this, and she just braced herself for the gloating. 

“If you can’t finish telling me what you know,” he teased, “then I can’t tell you about my lead.”


	13. Perilous Plan

“If you can’t finish telling me what you know,” he teased, “then I can’t tell you about my lead.”

The enjoyment from the exchange would be derived by her excuses or retorts. So Lauren apologized.

“I lost focus,” she said as her eyes darted to the side and broke eye contact with him. “I’m sorry.”

He leaned back, momentarily satisfied, but made no move to get off her. “Try not to fall asleep when you’re sparring an assassin, next time.”

His knees were planted beside both her thighs. It was the perfect angle for her to retaliate. “Thank you for that  _ insightful _ advice,” Lauren began, dropping her voice an octave. “But you should worry about yourself instead…” Her knee came up, aimed directly at his weak spot. 

He anticipated the move, and his bandaged hand snapped back to block the blow while the knife remained pointing at her throat. 

“Tstss,” he scolded, “Not so easy.”

But Lauren simply switched tactics. She grabbed both of his wrists, wrenching the knife away from her throat while she bent both knees and hooked them around his right leg. 

Kieran was expecting her to grab his wrists, and let it happen somewhat. He was  _ not _ expecting her to be strong enough to completely pull him off balance, and she used that. It wasn’t Kieran, the Purple Hyacinth, pushing her down. It was Will at the academy, and she’d done this move hundreds of times before. 

Kieran landed on his back and Lauren felt the smallest hint of satisfaction when he grunted in surprise. Now he was on his back, and she was the one looking down at him. Any hint of surprise quickly disappeared and Kieran smiled again.

“That was pretty good, officer,” he congratulated. For once, he didn’t sound condescending. 

“Thanks,” Lauren replied, “knocking you down is like a stress-reliever for me.” She preferred this position to the first. Good place to continue the conversation… “Anyway, to continue! It was already known that a group of rebels was forming, but there was a rumor they’d try to bomb the castle, not the train station, so the police were reinforcing security at the wrong place. By announcing themselves in clear opposition to the monarchy, the Phantom Scythe sent a very strong message.”

He was still smirking up at her, and she was starting to think he was enjoying the current situation. She abruptly leaned back, roughly using his chest to push herself up off him. “They would consolidate power in the dark until the day they could overthrow the crown and the class hierarchy it relies on,” she finished quickly as she broke away from his gaze. “Alright, get up.”

Lauren backed up and Kieran sprang to his feet. “A heart-warming cause, isn’t it?” he asked as he grabbed one of the knives and tucked it back behind his belt. “At least, that’s the ‘official version.’ Considering the leader’s a mystery, no one knows his real goal. Justice, revenge, ‘making a better world’ lured the desperate in. Money and power kept them, and attracted the more corrupt.”

“And I bet you joined because killing is your guilty pleasure?” Lauren asked. 

That infuriating smirk again. “Oh, if we start talking about  _ guilty pleasures, _ this conversation is going to get long. Don’t worry though, officer! You’re not one of them.” He stepped back and motioned for her to come at him again. 

_ Hand to hand combat then?  _ Lauren was not opposed to the absence of knives. “How could anyone believe that blowing up a train station and killing hundreds of innocent people could possibly be the start of a better world?” 

Kickboxing had been a pastime of hers back at the academy, and she slid into stance and threw her leg up. She watched his hand go to his belt, and her eyes widened as he pulled the knife out with one hand and blocked her leg with the other, sending her back onto two feet as he used the resulting momentum to spin her around. 

Her back slammed up against his chest with a resounding thud. One of his hands gripped one of her wrists while the other held that infuriating, blasted knife to her throat again. 

“I think half their members don’t really care, and the other half believe it was necessary,” he said coolly. Lauren barely heard him. Her mind replayed the last ten seconds. One moment she’d been swinging at him, the next he had her pinned. His breath breezed lightly over her left ear, sending nervous shivers down her spine.

Once again, she was reminded how quickly this situation could turn on her.

“Oh, you’re dead by the way,” he said, dipping his voice low again. 

Lauren did her best to keep the nerves out of her voice. “How did you do that?”

Kieran chuckled as he threw the knife across the room where it lodged firmly in the head of one of the body targets. Lauren watched the handle of the knife vibrate as it settled into the wood, and she stepped out of his grip. 

“Gonna have to hit the department gym more often if you want to survive our little partnership, officer,” Kieran said. 

Lauren rolled her eyes. Again.

“What do  _ you _ know about the leader?” she asked, as her eyes spotted a pinboard near the table and chest in the corner. 

_ Hmm. Well, that looks familiar. We’ve definitely got more than one thing in common. _

“I’ve been investigating him for years, and I’m as stumped as you,” Kieran said as he gestured at the board. “But I do know he carefully plans the deaths he orders. There’s a very specific reason behind each person I’m sent to kill. Generally, they’re either close to or supportive of the royal family, or they’re trying to betray the Phantom Scythe.”

Lauren left the training pad and walked from the island over to the pinboard. “Okay, let’s assume the apostles are the closest to the leader. Our best shot at finding him would be to tackle them first. If anyone knows his identity, it should be one of the four surviving originals.”

Her eyes were glued to the board, and she didn’t see Kieran pick up a knife from another rack. 

“Yep, except that the apostles’ identities are also unknown,” he said as he balanced the handle of the knife on his pointer finger.

“Seriously?” Lauren asked as she looked over her shoulder at him, “How do you guys even function?”

“The apostles are far more traceable than the leader, though,” Kieran elaborated as he spun the knife between his fingers, “Each of them has a… ‘territory’ or a specific type of operation they’re in charge of.”

“I see,” Lauren said. “So in order to find the head of the operation, we need to start with the people at the bottom.”

Kieran gripped the knife handle. “We already have a lead, actually.”

She should have seen it coming. The blade sailed through the air, passing inches from her nose as it embedded in one of the pictures on the board. Lauren glared at him.

“You do this again and I’ll kill you.”

“I know there’s an illegal weapons import ring running right now, with ties to the Phantom Scythe,” Kieran said, unperturbed by her threat, “It’s directed by Apostle VII, one of the original thirteen.” He nodded towards the picture held to the board by the knife. “Among the people potentially involved, I’ve identified Gregory McTrevor, who’s been previously accused of illegal arms trading. I’ve been watching him for some time now, and I’m honestly surprised Leader hasn’t asked me to finish him yet.”

Lauren took a closer look at the picture. “Yes, I’ve heard of him. He was arrested a couple of times in our precinct, I actually brought him in once. He lawyered up and wormed out of the charges by claiming lack of evidence.”

“He’s not the most subtle man ever. McTrevor thinks of himself as invincible, but he leaves tracks, so he’s going to be our first target. I propose we pay him a little visit and learn more about this operation. We just have to make sure that he can’t report us later.”

“I can’t believe I’m about to say this,” Lauren began as she turned to him, “But why don’t you just kill him after we’re done with him?”

Kieran’s ever-present smirk disappeared and he glared at her. 

“I mean, you’re the most fearsome assassin in the city…” she trailed off. 

“I kill only when I’m ordered to, or if it’s the  _ only _ solution,” he said firmly. “We’ll find a different way to neutralize McTrevor.” His tone was tight and cold, like he was angry that she even made the suggestion. 

_ This _ she was not expecting. For the first time, Lauren’s lips slowly spread into a smile. If he wanted to go the no-killing route, she was not going to argue. Her eyes went again to the board. 

“I might have a plan, then.”


	14. Exposing Envelope

A full week later. And what a week it was. 

Lauren leaned forward in her desk chair while the morning hum of the precinct office buzzed unnoticed around her. Shadows darkened her under eyes, and her shoulders were hunched while her head hung just a little lower than normal. 

Truth was, she was exhausted. Utterly and completely beat. But only in the physical sense. In the mental sense… Lauren was better than she had been in years. She kept glancing up at the clock, now striking nine. She was excited...exhilarated even. Any moment, someone was going to come barging through that door, probably Hermann, and demand to know what the hell was going on. 

She forced herself to work diligently on her paperwork, oblivious to Kym’s constant passing by her desk. Will watched in frustration as his sergeant took several meaningless passes by Lauren. 

First, she strutted by with an empty coffee mug, seemingly heading for a refill. Lauren flipped a page and reached for the next folder. Kym glanced over the label and frowned before continuing out of the office. 

On the way back, Kym visibly slowed her steps and stood in front of Lauren’s desk, briefly squinting her eyes and taking in Lauren’s exhausted features. No response. Kym let out a loud sigh, which Lauren also ignored, before returning to her desk. 

Not ten minutes later, Kym randomly picked up a large stack of paper from Randall’s desk and moved it to Harvey’s, using the path from one desk to the other to glance over Lauren’s shoulder. Nothing. 

Kym took a long sip of her coffee and set the stack down, ignoring Harvey’s little yelp of protest. Enough was enough.

Quietly, Kym slipped up behind Lauren and leaned over, just inches from her friend’s shoulder. Lauren’s eyes darted over the papers, still completely oblivious. Kym grinned.

“Lauren?” she whispered, lips right up to Lauren’s ear. 

“Ahhh!” The paper went flying. The ink pen flew from Lauren’s fingers and clattered to the floor. Will watched the whole scene unfold and quickly decided it was time for his own coffee break.

“Kym!” Lauren said as she whipped her head around and slammed her hand down on the table. “Can you  _ please _ stop creeping up on me? I swear I’m going to accidentally stab you if you keep doing this.” 

Kym smiled angelically, unperturbed by the threat. Opportunity dangled before her nose as Lauren’s golden eyes flashed angrily. “My dear Lauren,” Kym said in a posh accent, “Your pretty, golden eyes look pensive tod-”

“Stop!” Lauren cut her off. She turned away from Kym and started to consolidate her papers back together. Her pen was on the floor and she bent over towards it, straining her fingers to reach without having to get from her seat. 

“What did you do last night instead of sleeping?” Kym asked. There wasn’t any joking or mirth in Kym’s tone; it was a sincere question. Lauren sat up abruptly and looked back at Kym out of the corner of her eye. 

“What?” she asked innocently. 

“You look like someone propped a corpse up at your desk and slapped a wig on it,” Kym elaborated. Lauren frowned. She  _ couldn’t _ look that bad, could she?

She glanced around the room at her coworkers who were not-so-subtly listening in on the conversation. They all nodded in agreement at her silent question.

_ Yes, you do look that bad. _

“Which is typical of you,” Kym added pleasantly. Lauren grimaced. “But seriously, what were you up to?”

The truth wasn’t going to fly in this situation. As much as Lauren hated it, she had to lie to her friends. Their reaction to the truth was one she’d rather not see...ever…

_ “So, you see, I’ve spent that last seven nights in a cave in the woods with a serial killer, with no way to contact the outside world should something inevitably happen to me. We’ve been reading, writing, discussing, and having a jolly good romp. In fact, our hard work is just about to make a grand entrance. Do stay and watch the show.”  _ (This hypothetical explanation was mentally narrated in Lauren’s best imitation of Kym’s posh accent)

“I just had a lot on my mind,” Lauren said with a well-feigned chuckle. “There’s nothing to worry about, Kym. I swear!”

There was a shuffling noise behind them, and they both slowly looked over their shoulder. Will was standing there, memo in one hand, face in the other. He had to be a good lieutenant. He had to keep his two most out-of-line officers  _ in line. _

But his head was throbbing and he couldn’t hide the bags under his own eyes. 

“You too?” Kym exclaimed. “What happened to you, William?” She looked between her two friends in complete bewilderment. “Did you both decide to astral project yourselves into hell without inviting me? Why do I feel like I missed out on something?”

“I had a lot on my mind, too,” Will explained as he motioned for Kym to return to her desk. The office door opened and Hermann entered and headed straight for Lila’s desk. Any retort Kym had planned vanished, and for once, she didn’t argue as she spun on her heel and took another casual sip of her coffee. 

“Drama queens,” she muttered under her breath. Will took one last look at Lauren before returning to his own desk. Silence dominated the atmosphere once again, Hermann’s conversation the only steady hum in the corner. 

The words on the reports suddenly seemed a lot more crucial than they had five minutes ago, like she  _ required _ the distraction they offered. It was a small interaction, but guilt still settled decidingly in Lauren’s stomach. Lies slipped from her lips so easily, and it bothered her. 

Voices in the hall called her attention, and the door to the main office swung open. 

_ The mail cart. _

The delivery man stopped first at Will’s desk and unloaded another stack of envelopes, then he wheeled the cart over to the corner and offered a small package to Hermann.

“Captain Hermann, this is for you, sir.”

Lauren forced herself to keep her head down. She’d recognize that black paper packaging anywhere.  _ The eagle has landed, Kieran. I repeat. The eagle has landed. _ Now she had to wait again. The mailman continued with his deliveries, heading for Lila next. Hermann left the room, and the door clicked behind him.

Silence. A pause. Then Lauren’s ears detected a muffled grunt from the other side of Hermann’s office door. She grinned.

_ One… two… _

Hermann’s office door swung open and he came charging out like a bull from a pen. “Wait!” He held the opened package and brandished in the air towards the mailman. “Who gave you this envelope?”

“I don’t know, captain,” the man said quickly, “It was just on my trolley this morning.” 

Hermann glowered, storm clouds descending over his brows with dark intensity. He turned and left the office without another word. Everyone exchanged looks as the door slammed behind him. 

“What the…” Harvey began. Kym smirked.

“I’ll bet you seven pence it was a love letter.”

Thirty agonizing minutes passed, and Lauren severely started to doubt her acting abilities. It was torture, trying to act indifferent when her heart was pounding out of her chest. Her feet tapped the floor with rapidly increasing intensity. Randall shot a couple death-glares her way, but she didn’t notice. 

The office doors flew open and Hermann entered the room again with March and two other detectives in tow. “Whose work is this?” he demanded. 

Everyone glanced at each other, but no one spoke up. 

“I’m not in the mood for pranks!” Hermann bellowed. “Who sent this? It has to be someone from the office, no one else has access to the archivist’s trolley. I’ve asked the people from the investigation unit and no one’s claimed it.”

Lauren bit back a smirk.  _ The logic. _ Why would someone address him an anonymous detailed package like that only to step forward and take responsibility for it once he blew his top over it?

“Well, doesn’t look like it was any of us, either,” Kym said, finally breaking the silence in the room. Good ol’ Kym. Braver than most. “Maybe it’s someone from last night’s shift? What is it anyways?”

The question on everyone’s minds. Kym glanced at Harvey and Lauren just shook her head lightly. Kym was about to lose her bet. 

“It’s a file,” March replied from behind Hermann. “A file on Gregory McTrevor.”

“Isn’t that the merchant the investigation unit keeps trying to pin down?” Randall asked from his shadowy desk in the corner. 

“Yes, exactly,” March confirmed, “And apparently, this file is the missing piece we’d need to lock him up for good.”

Kym’s mouth dropped open. Will finally looked completely awake. Lauren released a well feigned gasp of surprise.  _ “What?”  _

She locked eyes with March, who didn’t seem to be quite as worked up as Hermann. Hermann was mad. March looked...excited.

“My guys spent months trying to get dirt on him with no luck,” March continued. “If the evidence here is proven true, then this one hell of a job.” He was expecting her to say something.

“Aren’t there any clues in the file?” Lauren asked carefully, “A signature, a piece of handwriting?”

Of course she knew the answer, but she felt the slightest hint of satisfaction when Hermann replied anyway.

“Nothing. Everything is typed, even the  _ cutesy  _ little cover letter.”

_ Cutesy? I’m rather proud of that cover letter.  _ Her knee-jerk reaction was to roll her eyes. She refrained. 

“I want this file analyzed by our best specialists, verify every single claim. It may look convincing, but I don’t trust this,” Hermann ordered. Ironically, he seemed more inflamed by the author of the evidence rather than the topic of the evidence. 

“What does the letter say?” Kym asked, curiosity eating her up. All eyes turned to Hermann. Lauren gripped her coffee cup tighter.

_ Please read it aloud. Please read it aloud. _

Her mind flashed back. She was sitting in the cave with a pair of black cotton gloves over both fingers as she pulled the page from the typewriter. Kieran stood just to the side, looking as pleased as she felt. It had been a long, hard week of work. 

Kieran smiled, and Lauren held up the page and read it aloud. 

“Good day, officers! In this folder, you will find everything you need to send Gregory McTrevor to his final incarceration.” 


	15. La Lune

Lauren looked up at Kieran as she added the cover letter to their finished stack of evidence. “Does that sound dramatic enough to you?” she asked. 

“Perfection. Always want to leave a lasting impression,” Kieran replied without missing a beat. Lauren’s eyes coasted over the documents that they had to consolidate into the final package. It hadn’t been easy to get it all. 

It was a good thing she had a lot of practice breaking into the archive room. All the documents the department had on McTrevor proved to be the perfect match for the information Kieran had already gathered. 

While she spent her time sneaking around the department, Kieran shadowed McTrevor, getting a good grip on his habits, hearing his conversations, and finding out where he would be the night of November 15th. 

The rest of the week was spent compiling the final package. They both soon realized they couldn’t fit everything they needed into a single envelope, so they made arrangements to leave the remaining evidence at a drop-off location indicated in the letter to the police. It was Kieran’s idea, and it had been a good one. 

Lauren’s knees and back ached from kneeling on the cave floor, papers and evidence spread out in a circle around her and Kieran as they put it all together like a puzzle piece. They’d managed to continue sparring as well. It was good exercise, and served to break up their sedentary study work with some much-needed movement. Kieran was surprisingly helpful and instructive, at least when he wasn’t trying to one-up her or pull dirty tricks to win the fights.

Lauren was able to improve on her already impressive combat abilities.

They’d argued...some. Lauren soon learned that Kieran hated paperwork nearly as much as Kym did. A typewriter turned out to be one of Kieran’s greatest adversaries, and Lauren finally ended up pulling the damn thing away from him and just doing the typing herself.

_"Spelling doesn't matter."_

_"Not to you, clearly."_

They’d argued less after that.

Every paper was handled with gloves, with great care for hairs, scents, or anything traceable that could be left among the documents. Lauren’s detective eyes were satisfied as she combed through the stack for the final time. Everything here would be admissible in court. McTrevor didn’t have a chance. 

Kieran tucked his thumbs under his arms and leaned over the cover letter Lauren just finished. “Instructions have been provided on how to trace any evidence that couldn’t fit inside this envelope. You have the day to verify everything here is in accordance with what is already known of Mr. McTrevor As for his arrest, you will find him in his home at 23 Palmore Street on November 15 at precisely 11:11 PM, not a minute more, not one less.” 

They’d decided on the time carefully after spending three of their seven nights perched on McTrevor’s rooftop, trying to predict when he arrived home, when he went into his study, and when he got ready for bed. Thankfully, McTrevor seemed to be a creature of habit.

The amount of inappropriate jokes Kieran made about their nighttime rendezvous, the plentiful moonlight, and the amount of time she spent _under him_ (in the context of sparring, of course), was becoming less and less infuriating. She’d even started making the jokes right back at him, enjoying how he initially was caught off guard. 

Lauren didn’t know how to define their dynamic, but it both relieved and worried her how at ease she became around him. Conversation flowed easily, but never strayed from surface-level banter or the details of their cases. 

“Why do you insist on that extra minute?” Lauren asked the night of the 14th as they slipped off the rooftop under the light of the full moon and headed back to the cave. 

“Because,” Kieran explained, “If we are _that_ specific, they’re more likely to follow the instructions, hover over their watches until the exact time we indicate rather than rounding off. It also gives us that much time to get out of there. Rather have one minute extra than one minute less. Makes all the difference.”

 _Just like the night we met,_ Lauren couldn’t help thinking. Their whole plan hinged on the department being willing to follow their instructions. She got a rush just thinking about it.

“It is imperative that the contents of this envelope remain under the seal of secrecy until that time. The Phantom Scythe has eyes and ears everywhere.”

Kieran finished reading it over and Lauren gathered the stack together and sealed the envelope. She would drop it off in the mail trolley at the precinct that evening. On to the next stage…

That same rush filled Lauren’s bloodstream as Hermann continued reading the cover letter aloud to the precinct office. 

“If its contents are revealed or leaked the whole operation could be compromised and you lose your _only_ chance to stop Gregory McTrevror.”

Lauren hid her smug smile behind the edge of her coffee mug as she raised it to her lips. For once, she felt quite pleased with herself. 

Hermann huffed and lowered the letter. “Apparently, the writer holds his own theatrics in very high esteem. _Hilarious and pretentious._ ”

Lauren abruptly choked on her coffee. 

_Pretentious? That was pretentious? Take a look in the mirror, asshole._ Lauren coughed and wiped her mouth, quickly averting her eyes away from Hermann.

“From what I’ve seen in the file, this is the work of a professional.” _Ah, March._ Always to her rescue, even when he didn’t know it. “It has to be someone with precise knowledge of our investigations on McTrevor.”

“Is it signed?” Will asked.

“Yes,” Hermann replied, “He calls himself _Lune.”_

 _Himself?_ Lauren was torn between being relieved and irritated. Of course Hermann thought one man came up with this. At least all suspicion was off her for now. 

The rest of the day passed as slow as glue drying on the sidewalk in January. Lauren was itching to finish patrol and had to restrain herself from running up the steps of the precinct as they returned around five that afternoon. She hadn’t felt this exhilarated since she was kicked off the investigative unit. It was a nice feeling, one she missed dearly.

Will was giving his usual attaboys and nice commentary to his officers as they all took off their jackets and stepped back into the office. Hermann and March were conversing over one of the desks in the corner and Lauren caught the tale-end of what March was saying.

“We’ve combed over the entire file, captain. Everything is correct. Honestly, I’ve never seen anything like this. No one at the station did this, I guarantee you.”

 _Oho, that’s what you think._ She wanted to celebrate. Another small victory along with unfiltered words of praise. She was on short supply of either. 

Wait. She was the sceptic, the critical mind, the pessimist of the precinct. If she was silent now it wouldn’t look right. She was typically such a question factory. 

“What if it’s a trap, laid out by someone from the Phantom Scythe?” she forced herself to say. “Or working closely with its members.” What was the balance between acting normally and not drawing too much attention to herself? Was she overthinking this? 

“Officer Sinclair is right. I will not let this _Lune_ criminal dictate the actions of the Ardhalis Police Department. There is no legal way he could’ve compiled this!” Hermann declared.

_Well, he was correct there._

“Captain, I’ve been working McTrevor’s case for five years,” March began, the fatigue evident in his voice, “Everyone knows he’s a crook with probable ties to the Phantom Scythe. His wealth protects him, but this time there’s not enough gold in the world to bail him out.”

“It might be a trap, but we’re the APD. We know he’s guilty of everything he’s been accused of, and we have everything we need to arrest him tonight,” Will added. “It's our responsibility to follow up on this.”

Lauren gripped her jacket tightly. _Will. March. I could kiss you both right now._

“Then we arrest him,” Hermann declared, turning back towards his office, “Now.”

Lauren’s eyes widened slightly. _No._

“No.” March said it for her. “I want to wait for the time Lune specified.”

“You want to follow his instructions?” Hermann asked incredulously, whipping around, “Why?”

“He was right about everything else. There must be a reason for the deadline! Wouldn’t it be wiser to respect it? And maybe, if Lune’s there, we can catch him in the act too,” March reasoned. 

Hermann narrowed his eyes and began to protest, but finally let out a tuff of air then turned to his office once again. “Fine. It’s your time to waste. March, you’re in charge of this. Gather your team.” Hermann took three steps forward before turning around dramatically again, pointing a finger at all of the officers and detectives in the room. “And this exceptional incident shall remain strictly confidential until the case is solved, until McTrevor is either behind bars or back home in his bed! Am. I. Clear?”

There was a quick and loud responding, “Yes, sir!” 

“And March,” Hermann continued, leaning towards the head detective, “That envelope didn’t just _fly_ onto the mail trolley. _Someone_ must have put it there, and _I want that person found._ ”

Behind them, Lauren swallowed hard. She was playing several dangerous games at once. 

Less than six hours later, Lauren found herself standing next to Kieran back on McTrevor’s rooftop. It was ten-thirty. Half an hour for an interrogation, eleven minutes to get the hell out of there before the police crashed in. They got first dibs on McTrevor and then immediately assured he lived to see handcuffs after they learned what they needed. 

It was a good plan. But good plans also went south for her before.

The two of them were dressed similarly. Two top hats, two long trenchcoats. They were covered from tip to top. White shirts, though Lauren wore a brown vest over hers while Kieran left his v-neck forever hanging open over his chest. Black masks covered most of their faces while White gloves fringed the end of long dramatic sleeves. 

The window to McTrevor’s study was just below them. If they were right, McTrevor was heading there now in nothing but a pair of PJs.

A rude thing to do, to arrest a man in his under things. Oh well. 

Kieran caught Lauren’s eyes and she nodded at him. They were ready.

They slipped through the window with quiet ease and managed to be perched together prettily against the sill, waiting and ready as the floorboards creaked beneath McTrevor’s feet. The study door opened and McTrevor’s face came into view in the small candlelight. He instantly froze as he looked into two pairs of glittering eyes.

They should have decided who was going to say the opening line (Kieran would have wanted to do it), but it came out together in practice-perfect unison anyway. 

“Good evening, sir.”


End file.
